


dear draco,

by malfoyuh



Series: dear draco, [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:40:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 36
Words: 43,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29987160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malfoyuh/pseuds/malfoyuh
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Original Female Character(s)
Series: dear draco, [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2205798
Kudos: 7





	1. zero

Why do the birds go on singing?

Why do the stars glow above?

Don't they know, it's the end of the world?

It ended when I lost your love.

-

_The End of the World ~ Skeeter Davis_


	2. half

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this story is not a series of letters. it is also unedited since 2018 so please forgive any typos, bad grammar, etc.
> 
> thank you for reading :)

_My dearest darling love,_

_I know you hate when I call you that, but I miss you, and I feel that in this case, I am allowed to. I think you'll understand._

_God, I miss you._


	3. one

  
  
**_I S O B E L ' S P. O. V._ **

~

When I look up, he is staring at me again.

Draco Malfoy. At me.

And it doesn't make sense, because he is in Slytherin and I am in Gryffindor, and God forbid Draco Malfoy shows _any_ interest in a Gryffindor.

But there it is again. The smirk. The eyebrow raise.

As always, I give him a withering look, and as always, he returns it with a sarcastic wave. And I look away, and it's over.

Until it happens again.


	4. two

_When I was younger, I was the kind of person who would scorn all feeling. I never believed the hype that the world associates with first love - or love in general, really. I never understood the idea of loving another person so much that you value their happiness over your own, and make your decisions based on that. That you think of them with everything you do._

_I am a different person now._

_When we first met, I thought you were an idiot. I was fascinated by you, yes, but I hated you, because Gryffindors and Slytherins are obligated to hate each other. At only twelve years old, we were thrown into our own defining worlds – Gryffindors were told they were brave and chivalrous; Slytherins cunning and ambitious. You are twelve. These are your most valued traits. These will define you from now on. If it hadn't been for those houses, our story might not have started the way it did. I hated you, yes, but only because I was wired to do so._

-

**_F L A S H B A C K_ **

~

**_When it snows, there is no better word to describe the world than 'white'. White represents purity and perfection, and that is what happens – all of the world's flaws disappear under a quilt of perfect white snow. The beauty of everything is suddenly amplified._ **

**_Although we had been warned to stay inside, the majority of the school's population could be found in the Hogwarts grounds, making the most of the icy weather by playing in the snow like children. I was with Harry, Ron and Hermione, all three of us unrecognizable in bundles of clothing. We were trying to make a snowman – Harry's first proper snowman – without any magic. Around us, people were running and laughing, and even using magic to conjure flurries of snow and mini ice castles. Snowballs whizzed past my ears, begging me to join the fun, but I had one sole mission: to find the perfect arms for our snowman._ **

**_Joined by Ron, I walked towards an opening in the trees, where some branches had fallen. Sunlight bounced against the powdery snow, making it seem fluorescent in its paleness. I wandered around the pretty scenery, in search of a suitably arm-like branch._ **

**_That is, until icy coldness sliced down my back._ **

**_I screeched in indignance, causing Ron to roar with laughter behind me. I started gathering snow to get him back, but he had already thrown me over his shoulder._ **

**_"See that pile of snow?" He spun me so I would look at it._ **

**_"I – Ron-"_ **

**_"I'm going to throw you right in it. Sorry if you die."_ **

**_"Okay, Ron, look-"_ **

**_"Are you prepared – to be - a snow – angel-"_ **

**_"Ron."_ **

**_He sighed and let me down. "What?"_ **

**_"There's someone watching us."_ **

**_"There's-" Ron turned indignantly. "Where?"_ **

**_"Up by the bridge," I pointed to the dark figure standing at the corner of the stone wall, facing our direction. The person turned hastily as I pointed._ **

**_Ron squinted dramatically. "No, sorry. I don't see anyone."_ **

**_"You liar."_ **

**_"Oh I'm a liar, am I?" he grinned, grabbing my arm so as to pull my attention away from the figure. "Were you not the one who gave me a face full of snow earlier, having said it would be a hug?"_ **

**_I yelped and tried to run away, but he pulled me back to face him – and he was down on one knee. I chuckled warily. "What're you going to do, propose or something?"_ **

**_"Isobel Abigail Young", he started. His voice was loud, but his ears were bright red – a tell-tale sign of his nervousness. He grinned sheepishly. "Would you like to attend the Yule Ball with me?"_ **

**_"Oh, Ron," I said, feeling very awkward. His grin faltered. "I'd love to, I really would, but I'm going with Dean."_ **

**_"What?" Ron hastened up, blushing furiously. "Since when?"_ **

**_"Since last week," I replied guiltily. "But I promise to save you a dance." Noticing how embarrassed he still was, I added, "you know, I don't think the Patil twins have found dates yet."_ **

**_Ron's face lit up slightly. "Are you sure?"_ **

**_"Yes. And I could ask them for you... Maybe..." I picked up some snow and formed it into a ball in my hands. "It all depends..."_ **

**_"On?"_ **

**_"On how much snow I can get down your back!" I leapt forward, snowball in hand, but he was too fast – he spun and grabbed my hood. I shrieked loudly, wrenching out of his grasp. As he scrabbled at more snow, I darted back through the trees to hide, almost crashing into Harry and Hermione on my way. I raced around them and to the corner of the bridge, trying to find someplace safe – until I bumped into someone._ **

**_"Sorry!" I started. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-"_ **

**_My breath caught as I realised who it was._ **

**_Not only did I not wish to apologize to Draco Malfoy, but he looked..._ **

**_Weird._ **

**_His nose and cheeks were pink from the cold, and snowflakes had caught in his fair eyelashes. He was clad from head to toe in charcoal-grey wool, complete with a black coat and gloves; so soft and expensive-looking that it made me want to snuggle up to his chest._ **

**_Except that he was Draco Malfoy._ **

**_I tried to push the disturbing thoughts from my mind and say something clever, something nasty, but I stuttered and simply stood there staring at him. Had he been the one watching us?_ **

**_He blinked. "Cat got your tongue, Young?"_ **

**_I desperately searched for a witty comeback. "I – What –Where are your two goons anyway?"_ **

**_Towering over me, Draco gave me a condescending look, his grey eyes intimidatingly striking. The hard line of his jaw was clenched. "Why does that matter? Can't I go for a walk alone?"_ **

**_"Please", I scoffed, trying to gather my thoughts. "You're never alone. I swear I've never seen you without a bodyguard at your side."_ **

**_He smirked. "I didn't know you paid so much attention to me."_ **

**_"I don't," I retorted quickly. "I just wonder if you pay your friends to play guard -"_ **

**_"Shut up," Draco snapped. "At least I don't make friends with mudbloods."_ **

**_The pit in my stomach disappeared as quickly as it had popped up. "That's a horrible word, Malfoy," I said sharply._ **

**_He snickered, shooting me a nasty smile. "I knew that would get you. Don't forget the other blood traitors, and Scarhead Potter-"_ **

**_"If you mean Ginny and Ron, they have names-"_ **

**_"I think blood traitor is name enough."_ **

**_"You take that back!" I said, my voice rising. "I don't know who you think you are, assuming you can go around calling people names and thinking you're so much better than them!" He laughed, which maddened me even more. "I'll have you know-"_ **

**_"What's going on here?"_ **

**_I felt someone gently pull me backwards and I suddenly realised I had gotten very close to Draco's face._ **

**_Harry stepped up beside me, fuming; Ron at his tail. "Something wrong, Malfoy?"_ **

**_Draco's smirk only grew, his eyes still on mine._ **

**_I scowled at him. "It's fine, Harry, forget it. We have better people to waste our time on." I turned and dragged the two with me. When I glanced back, Draco was still watching me, his grey eyes cutting into my very soul._ **


	5. three

  
**_F L A S H B A C K_ **

~

**_At the Yule Ball, it had taken thirty long minutes to get Ron to dance with me._ **

**_Like practically every girl there, I had been looking forward to the ball ever since we had found out about it. I had spent most of my savings on a preciously beautiful dress - a shimmery, black, low-back fashion - and hours perfecting my hair and makeup. It was the first time I truly felt beautiful. But Harry and Ron were ruining this elation._ **

**_Harry had been a lost case from the start, his eyes only flickering momentarily to me when I said his name. Ron however, had been so absorbed in glaring at Hermione and Viktor Krum that I strongly suspected the reason he finally agreed to dance was so that he could be angry at them from a closer distance._ **

**_"I can't believe she went with him," said Ron now. We moved awkwardly, barely touching. Three violinists stood by the stage, creating soft and gentle musical art, with so much potential for romance. People around us swayed softly, their heads on each others shoulders. Ron didn't seem to realise. "She's Hermione," he continued spitefully. "She's meant to be smart, and he's, like, the enemy."_ **

**_"You should have asked her first," I replied. "When I said no, maybe. Or before that."_ **

**_Ron looked at me as if I was crazy. "That's not what this is about. It's about Krum-," he broke off with a bitter shake of his head. "Unbelievable."_ **

**_Ron and I danced for a little while, moving as in time to the music as we could manage between the two of us, and dispassionately enough to take in the scene around us. Like Harry, some people sprawled across benches and seats around the edges of the room, staring tiredly at those on the dancefloor._ **

**_Most, however, seemed to be enjoying themselves. People were laughing and chattering; each in a world of their own. The Great Hall was barely recognisable under its shimmery ornamentations: every wall adorned with glittering, silk fabric, and mistletoe and ivy. The end result was stunning. The hall was decorated with a strictly silver, wintery theme, but the guests turned it into a living sea of colour. Robes whipped and skirts twirled, and the room was alive with music and magic. It wasn't a bad night, I supposed; not much more than I expected -_ **

**_Until I noticed Draco Malfoy._ **

**_He was dressed head to toe in fitted, high collared robes; the black of them contrasting wildly with the paleness of his features. His hair was down, floppy, but out of his face, unlike it usually was these days._ **

**_"Ouch," said Ron. "You stepped on my toe."_ **

**_"Sorry," I muttered._ **

**_I desperately tried to pull my thoughts away from Draco, but my eyes refused to leave him. He moved with grace, much more fluidly than Ron was. He was elegant and poised-_ **

**_-and just then, his eyes met mine. He stopped, momentarily, before recommencing to dance, but his rhythm had disappeared now. He pulled his gaze away from mine, but his eyes bounced repeatedly back to me, as if it hurt to look away._ **

**_But then he narrowed his eyes, and the moment was gone._ **

**_When we drew closer, he spoke._ **

**_"Nice robes, Weasley. I almost forgot you'd be here in hand-me-downs. Who are those from, your grandmother?"_ **

**_Ron cursed at him, but for once, he wasn't very angry at all. His eyes were still on Hermione and Krum._ **

**_Draco had been with Pansy Parkinson earlier, but was currently dancing with a pretty Beauxbatons girl. They moved fluidly around us, encompassing us. "Young and Weasley. Interesting. I didn't see it coming, but I must admit you do make a lovely couple." They kept moving, and I chewed on my cheek so as not to retaliate. "A lovely little couple of blood-traitors."_ **

**_I felt at my sides for my wand, but I had left it in the dorms. Draco noticed and smirked. The Beauxbatons girl smiled politely. She probably couldn't even speak English, and had no idea what was going on._ **

**_"Though I shouldn't be surprised," Draco continued. I groaned loudly, pulling Ron away from them, but they followed. I glared at the French girl, who widened her eyes, startled. "You've both been pushed aside, Potter and Granger in the limelight, of course you'd end up tog-"_ **

**_He stopped suddenly as I lurched towards him. Ron, who had pulled me back, looked at me confusedly. "What'd he do?"_ **

**_"You wait, Malfoy," I said. "One day, you won't be so lucky – it'll all get back to you one day."_ **

**_But Draco was laughing in my face. His eyes crinkled up and he threw back his head. I stalked away, feeling very much like I wanted to punch him in the stomach._ **

**_I watched him for the entire night, slouching glumly on a bench next to Harry and Ron. Every now and then his eyes fell on me, but he simply narrowed them and chose another pretty girl to dance with – and another, and another, and another._ **

**_I hated him._ **

**_But the thing was, Draco Malfoy was taking up my thoughts far more than he should have been._ **

**_I couldn't ever admit it to anyone - I could hardly admit it to myself._ **


	6. four

Draco Malfoy is much taller than the last time I saw him.

He stands in the middle of the train corridor talking to his friends, without a care in the world about anyone who might want to get past. On any other occasion, I would have something to say about his nerve. But today is the first day back at school and I would rather it be a wholly positive and enjoyable experience, so I try to sneak past unnoticed.

It has only been three months, but he has grown an awful lot; his jaw is more defined, his frame is manlier. His hair is longer now and flops over his forehead; white-blond strands tickling a delicate brow. I didn't think it was possible, but he seems to stand with an even more egotistical presence as well, and radiates more arrogance than ever before.

This is exactly what everyone who hates Draco Malfoy needed – for him to get even better looking.

What remains unchanged is how pale he is. I have tanned over the summer, built up freckles and lighter hair, but Draco looks like has never seen the sun. His paleness is almost angelic, yet his eyes bear a hard expression. A warning of the devil beneath?

I don't think so. I think there is a lot more to Draco Malfoy than he lets anyone see. Being who he is, there are expectations and standards; God forbid anyone see him looking sensitive or emotional or kind.

All that said, I don't actually care about Draco Malfoy. I swear.

An angry shout and shove on my back makes me realise I have stopped in my tracks at the centre of the corridor. I start forward, trying to move on, but my own trunk stands in my way, and before I know it I have tripped over it, and-

And I am on my knees, staring at Draco's feet.

I swallow and grit my teeth, preparing myself for certain humiliation. This is great, just great. Blood rushes to my face as I stand up awkwardly and grab my bag.

When I look at Draco, the ghost of a smirk is visible on his lips. "Young, I know you're in love with me, but there's no need to worship at my feet." His friends snigger and I glare at them.

"Malfoy, I know you're a self-important idiot but there's no need to be so open about it." I give him my sweetest smile and try to push past.

Draco sticks out his arm and I walk right into it. People are shoving past us now, pressing me into him, but he doesn't even flinch. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

I groan inwardly as I realise I have actually tried to walk on without my trunk. I hope my cheeks aren't as red as they feel. "How gallant of you to remind me."

Dragging my heavy trunk onwards is exceptionally more difficult under Draco's intense gaze. He follows me down the corridor, breaking out into a smile every time I stumble. "It's a shame you're too proud to ask for help," he says. He leans against a compartment window, strolls forward to catch up with me, then leans again.

"It's a shame there's no one around who would actually help me."

"You'll never know if you don't ask, will you?"

"Oh, shut up."

Draco pulls a very serious face. "Now, now Young. You wouldn't want detention on your first day now, would you?"

I blink. "What?"

Draco breaks out into a smile, and if I didn't hate him so much, he might almost look cute. "Oh, you mustn't have heard," he says pleasantly. "You see, I'm a prefect now, Young. I can give you detention any time I want."

"You're-" I step away. "No way. You're not a prefect."

"That's right," he says happily. "Actually, I was just on my way to our first meeting."

"That's great." I walk on, and once again he follows. "I can't wait for you to abuse that position. Honestly, who chose you? Who's in charge of choosing prefects?"

"As I'm prefect and you're not," Draco replies evenly; "I wouldn't think into it that much. You wouldn't want to bruise your ego."

I roll my eyes. "If you don't mind," I say, "I'm going to go talk to my friends – some of whom actually deserved to get prefect."

" _Ohhhh,"_ he says solemnly. I speed up, but he's much faster than me, and stays on my heels. "I completely forgot," he purrs into my ear. I shrug him off. "The reason you didn't get prefect was because of Granger. You must be so upset."

"There are more important things in life than being a prefect," I snap.

He sticks out his bottom lip. "Of course."

I feel at my sides for my wand to shut him up, but once again, I've left it in my trunk. He snickers.

"Isobel!"

I look around to see Ron and Hermione weaving their way towards me. Both wear a look of simultaneous excitement and confusion; they are happy to see me - but why am I talking to Malfoy?

Draco clearly isn't thrilled to see them either, and he stops in his tracks with a grimace. "Hope to see you later, Young," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. And with that, he is gone.

" _Isobel_!"

I spin around just in time to see the bushy haired head of the girl throwing her arms around me. I grin and hug her back tightly, then stand back to see her properly. "How are you, Hermione?"

"Good, how are you? How was your summer?" she says eagerly, as I embrace Ron.

"Why was _he_ bothering you?" says Ron, craning his neck to try see Draco.

I roll my eyes. "Don't worry about it. Just Malfoy being Malfoy."

Hermione frowns, looking at the carriage behind her. "Oh Isobel, we've so much to tell you but we have to go to the-"

"The prefect meeting," I finish, and she gives me an apologetic look. "You'll never guess who else is prefect," I say warily.

Hermione groans. "Malfoy? I'm not surprised, honestly. Who else could it have been?"

"Anyone but him," I say scornfully. "But whatever. Who cares, right? Do you know where Harry or Ginny are?"

Hermione points in the direction they came from. "Somewhere down there, I think. We'll see you later."

When I finally find Harry, Ginny and Neville, I realise that I have missed my friends even more than I thought. We talk and chat and laugh, and in minutes, I have forgotten all about Draco Malfoy.

If there is one place in the world that rivals my love for Hogwarts, it is the Hogwarts Express. There is no day of the year among Hogwarts students that is more exciting than the first of September, and trapped in here for two hours, this excitement cannot help but surge through the carriages, until the train is ready to burst with its own exhilaration.

Returning to our second home is unimaginably thrilling. I stare out the window, biting back a grin. The hills and valleys fold rapidly into each other as we chug past, a consistent and oblivious contrast to the magically ecstatic train. They are void of any human life, just endless, sweeping stretches of shades upon shades of bright, bright green. There is no going back now – we are on our way to Hogwarts again.


	7. five

The first few weeks back at school fly by. By the time September has passed, it feels just like we never left. Despite this, a notable amount has happened in the month, including an introduction to Dolores Umbridge, Harry getting into a bunch of trouble, and my own failed attempt at throwing a back-to-school party. It had been harmless, our first night back at Hogwarts, but only thirty minutes or so into the fun, who else had rocked up at our common room door but Draco Malfoy? Smiling widely all the time, he had claimed that as prefect, it was his "duty" to ensure other students didn't do "silly things" without permission. I reckoned he just didn't like the idea of people having more fun than him. After that, he had shown up on multiple occasions, just to "check in" – as if Gryffindor didn't have its own share of prefects.

On Monday morning, I trudge tiredly into double Potions. I collapse into my seat, feeling quite downcast about the lack of fun I'm having thanks to Malfoy, as well as the vast amount of work we've already been assigned.

I'm sitting across from two Slytherin girls, Millicent Bullstrode and Daphne Greengrass. As if we aren't in the early hours of a Monday morning, they are focusing eagerly on their potions, both rather pink in the face. I might look the same if I felt any kind of motivation today, but I don't, and instead put all my effort into attempting to remain seated while making my potion.

My eyes flicker to where Draco is sitting. He too is slumped lazily in his chair, taking slow notes as Snape speaks. His forearm disappears into the sleeve of his robes, which are pulled up to free his hands. He pauses, tapping his quill against the desk, and without warning, looks up and meets my eyes. He raises an eyebrow, having caught me staring at him. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of getting a glare, I purse my lips and look away indifferently.

My gaze wanders to Millicent and Daphne, and I realise that they are animatedly whispering. Despite myself, I am curious, and turn my head to listen in.

"It starts at half nine," Daphne is saying. "We reckon most of the first years should have cleared out by then."

Millicent nods. "They always ruin parties."

"Well, they won't ruin this one. We won't let them."

Millicent pauses to read an instruction in her potions book, and I take the opportunity to clear my throat. "Who's throwing this party then?"

Daphne looks down at me. "What's it to you?"

"Just curious. If it's some fourth year, it can't be a great party, can it?"

"It's probably Draco," says Millicent, without looking at me.

"It's _always_ Draco," says Daphne earnestly. She gazes coyly back at him, as if throwing the occasional party is a heroic, admirable trait that will redeem him from all his past actions. His eyes flicker uninterestedly towards her, then back to his book.

I hum, trying to sound casual. "You know he broke up a Gryffindor party the other night?" I raise my voice just a little bit. "Pretty hypocritical, don't you think?"

Draco's eyes remain downcast but the corner of his lip twitches.

Daphne rolls her eyes. "Well, that's the difference between you and us, then. Slytherin parties don't get broken up."

"We'll see," I mumble, flicking the nib of my quill against my nail.

"What's that?" says Daphne loudly. Draco's eyes jump to me, and I know I've got him.

I give Daphne a sickly sweet smile. "I said, I hope you have a great party."

-

That night, I make my way down to the dungeons to oversee my own share of party-spoiling. I'm alone; although I pleaded enthusiastically with Harry, Ron and Hermione to join me, they're busy organising the first official DA meeting. But whatever.

The corridor is dark, but the weighty beat of music is audible through the wall on my right. I stroll closer, dragging my feet against the ground, trying to remind myself that it's silly to be excited about this. I haven't exactly dressed up for the occasion, and my fleece pyjama shorts allow an autumn breeze to drift against my bare legs. It's chilly, but I barely notice. It's dark too; the days are getting shorter and shorter as we progress towards winter. The corridor is so dark that it would be enormously easy to hide here. Anyone could be behind any corner, waiting-,

A strong arm catches me from behind. "Not so fast."

I spin around to face Draco. His triumphant expression falters when he sees my grin. "What's up?"

Draco blinks. "You won't be sabotaging any parties tonight, Young."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I say. "I was just taking a midnight walk."

"Let's not play around here, Young. You were coming here to try break up my party as revenge for me breaking up yours. Well, tough luck-"

"Or maybe-" I interrupt- "Maybe, I just wanted to leave you in anxiety the whole night, so you wouldn't have a good time?" A shadow of uncertainty flickers across Draco's face, and I break out into a sweet smile again. "Nah, I'm just joking", I say. "You don't have to worry about _me_ breaking up your party. Actually, Professor Umbridge is supposedly coming down any second." Draco's jaw drops, and my smile widens. "Well, that's what the rumour is, anyway. Someone might just have let slip your plans for tonight. I reckon the music should be turning off sometime soon – oh, there we go!"

The loss of music provokes an immediate silence and I suddenly feel awkward. Draco is staring daggers at me. "How dare you-"

"An eye for an eye, Malfoy," I say calmly. "You hit me, I hit back."

Draco clenches his jaw. "You'd better hope you won't need to regret this, Young."


	8. six

"Young!"

I'm sitting alone on the bank of one of the immense lawns, overlooking the Great Lake. It is a relatively warm day, considering it's the middle of October, and the air is bright and dry. It might be relaxing if I didn't have so much work to do, but my books are spread around me like cell walls. Still, stressed as I might be, this is a nice break from the stuffy library.

"Hey, Young!"

Behind me, near the school, Draco has broken away from his little clique who he was standing with and is jogging over to me. The expression of confusion on my face greatens as he sits down beside me.

He sticks out his hand and I stare at it. "I'm calling truce."

"Truce?" I stare at him. "You never call truce."

He smiles calmly. "I didn't know you were such an expert on my personality."

"But why would you – ," I frown, trying to take this in. "What's the catch?"

"There is no catch," says Draco pleasantly. "But wouldn't life just be _so_ much better if we were on good terms?"

His sarcasm cools me slightly. "I don't understand," I say. "It's not as if we were in a big prank war or anything. Harry and Ron fight with you all the time, and you've never said something like this to them."

Draco narrows his eyes. "Despite what you might think, Potter and Weasley don't interfere with my personal life. You do, and personally, I feel it would be best for both of us to just be civil."

I stare warily at my book. "Fine. But I'm not shaking your hand, you probably spat on it or something."

"Now why ever would I do that?" I don't answer, and out of the corner of my eye I see him look at me curiously. "Something wrong, Young?"

"Just that you're still here."

"You know; I think first-name terms would make this work better," he says thoughtfully. "What would you like me to call you?"

"Are we being civil or best gal pals?"

"I think Isobel is a bit formal, don't you? How about Izzy?"

I look up at him for the first time, amazed. "Malfoy, where has this all come from?" I say, and my tone is as astounded as I feel. "You're scaring me."

Once again, he ignores me. He crosses his legs and squints dramatically at the lake. "Iz? Izzo?"

I suppress a smile. "Neither."

"So what would you prefer I call you?"

"I'd prefer you didn't call me anything."

"Bel?"

"No."

"Bella?"

"Definitely not."

Draco suddenly makes some kind of loud, over the top, gasp sound. " _Belly_."

I widen my eyes. "Malfoy," I say; "you will not call me that ridiculous name-"

"As prefect, I'll call you anything I like," he says happily. "See you later, _Belly_."

He walks away with long strides, but with a new kind of bounce in his step. I watch him all the way, positively astonished.

-

I make it a full week before Draco manages to corner me again, full of questions like _are you okay - are you eating enough - are you hydrated - are you getting enough sleep - are you finding a reasonable balance between work and leisure - Belly, Belly, Belly..._ His questioning only stresses me out more, to tell the truth, because I don't think I will ever figure out what exactly he's playing at and from where he has managed to drag out this fake, overly-niceness.

After that, November flies by in an array of stricter rules and harder work, and I trying to avoid Draco, who remains ever persistent in his exaggerated politeness. Most nights are spent by the warm, blazing fire of the Gryffindor common room, wrapped in blankets and thick fleeces, trying desperately to get homework done hours before it is due. We are spending more and more time in DA meetings, which I will pick over homework any day, but this means that we don't have quite as much free time as the teachers think we do. The pressure makes me irrationally nervous.

On this particular night, I am joined by Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville.

Neville, who has been poring over a Herbology essay for about an hour looks up suddenly. "Isobel, I've just remembered!" he says earnestly. "Why was Malfoy bothering you earlier?"

I go red, feeling the others' eyes turn to me. "Was he?"

"Yes, during lunchtime!" says Neville earnestly. "You were on the bank and he came over to you. I would have helped you out, but I had Potions next class and couldn't find my textbook."

Hermione is still looking at me, curious. "Was he being mean to you?" she asks. "He doesn't usually target people on his own, does he? Crabbe and Goyle are usually around to bodyguard him."

"He was fine," I say indifferently, turning over a page in my textbook. I try to remind myself that my heart shouldn't be speeding up, I have nothing to hide from them. "Just being his usual strange self. That was very kind of you Neville, you really needn't have worried."

But as I dismiss the conversation and try to continue my work, I know that they – especially Hermione – are forming their own false ideas about my association with Draco. But as much as I hate to admit it, I can't help feeling that maybe, just maybe, they might be right.


	9. seven

As much as I adore Christmas, the one thing I dread every festive season is the annual Ministry Christmas party. A bunch of Ministry co-workers show up, usually at some fancy hotel, and use the party as an escapist excuse to get drunk and forget the weight of their jobs. And, of course, they drag their kids along with them. There are Ministry workers that avidly avoid the party - it might be somewhat tolerable if Ron and Ginny were here - but my parents, particularly my dad, who works in the Department of Security, see it as a Christmas ritual. I usually hang out with Susan Bones, a timid Hufflepuff girl whose aunt is a Ministry worker. This year, however, I have been to my greatest dismay informed by her aunt, Amelia Bones, that Susan is in bed with the flu. I wish I were in bed with the flu right now.

So when I first arrive, I have no idea how I'll possibly get through the night. I stand, lonely in the corner of the massive room, which has been lavishly and over-exaggeratedly decked with wreaths and Christmas trees and tinsel. The lights are nauseatingly bright and the air is stuffy. The music is loud, too loud. It's like when Hermione brought me to a muggle concert and we stood too close to the speaker. Except here there is no speaker, and nowhere to get away from the chatter and overly loud classical music.

But two hours, and multiple vividly coloured drinks later, the room is prettier and I am dangerously dizzy. "Last one," I tell the guy at the refreshments table, whose name I've forgotten but I have befriended. He's a lanky guy, not far over eighteen, and is probably only letting me stay because I am his only source of entertainment in an otherwise dull party, but he lets me have the adult punch so I don't mind.

"That looks alarmingly bright," says a voice behind me.

I turn. Malfoy slouches behind me with his hands in his pockets. He's clearly grumpy, but in his fancy shirt, I'll admit it - he looks extremely handsome.

"Malfoy," I say happily. "Fancy seeing you here. Are you following me?"

Under the garish, twinkly Christmas lights, I swear I see the corners of Draco's mouth turn up. "Don't worry Belly, I'm not that into you."

I turn to the punch guy with a meaningful look on my face. "You hear that? He's into me."

When I turn back, Draco is looking down at my cup, sceptical. I jerk it back. "Just joking. Anyway, nice to see you. Happy Christmas. Having a good holiday? Me too. Well, it's alright I suppose." I sigh. "You want to go up to the roof? I've been told there's a great view. Stephen here-"

"It's Stefan-"

"-Knows all the secrets of this place." I wink at the punch guy. "But he says I'm not allowed go up alone because it's too high. Care to be my plus one?"

"Not particularly," Draco replies casually. He turns to the table and inspects the empty trays in disdain. His eyes flicker over to my cup again. "Where are your parents?"

"Why?" I ask, moving closer. I lean into him. "Are you trying to get me in trouble? Where'd your weird, overly-niceness go?" He doesn't reply. "Fine," I say, whipping away and starting towards the nearest door. "I'll go to the roof myself."

As I am halfway up the only staircase I can find – it must lead to the roof – footsteps sound behind me. "Ah, Malfoy," I say delightedly. He stands a few steps below me, and I notice his black suit and tie for the first time. He looks very handsome. "My knight in shining armour," I say sarcastically. "Come to help me not to die?"

"No," Draco says stiffly. "I just wanted to go up myself." But as I move forward to the door, his eyes are on me, and curiosity betrays his lazy gaze.

I push open the heavy door and for a brief moment, I am stone cold sober. The roof of the hotel overlooks the entire city of London, and I am dazzled by lights upon lights, from streetlights to billboards to Christmas decorations, illuminating the dark city. Music drifts up through the cold air towards us from faint carols being sung at a church nearby. The people on the street below us are ants, the buildings straight ahead are silhouettes. And when I look up, there is a canopy of stars protecting us from whatever lies above it.

I have never actually been to London before, and I tell Draco this. Encouraged by his astonished reaction, I go on;

"Only to King's Cross, for the Hogwarts Express. And well, here, but I've never actually been around London, if you know what I mean."

I sit down on the brick wall behind us and tell him about the trips I have been on, to different places around England, as well as several holidays to Ireland, to Galway and Donegal and Achill Island. How my father is Irish, so it suits us better to go there anyway, and how happy it makes him to be back in his home country and to see all his Irish family again.

Draco tells me all about all his own trips, to Tokyo and Stockholm and Moscow. Their family have so many connections that he has been to many faraway places, but what amazes me is how passionate he is about it; how much the different cultures fascinate him. I have never heard him talk about things that make _him_ happy before, and he, I suppose, is astounding.

"It makes you feel small," he says slowly, as if carefully picking his words. "There's a whole world out there that we haven't even seen, full of people just as complicated as us. It makes you realise how egotistic we are."

"You, egotistic?" I say slyly, and he glares at me. "Never!" I laugh out loud and he relaxes a little. "I think that's our own fault," I say. "We're getting too used to amazing things. Like, you can buy your own star, right? But now so many people have their own star, that it's not special anymore. And there's no way to make getting someone a star special, or individual, because they're all just stars. It's not amazing anymore."

"So I could get you a star and you wouldn't even be grateful?"

I roll my eyes. "I mean, I would, but I would know that a million other people also have stars. And as I would never see it, it wouldn't actually be unique."

"You have very high standards." He smiles playfully. "I do wonder why you're single."

I hit his shoulder and he pouts. "We should all have high standards," I say, but he doesn't look convinced. "At least I don't have this ridiculous vision of love that everyone else does. You should hear the girls in the dorms, they would sacrifice limbs to live in the story of Blue Lagoon."

"What ridiculous vision of love?"

"Oh, you don't know?" I turn to him, and he looks puzzled. "I'll fill you in", I say decidedly. "Let me tell you just how messed up this world is. You find all these stories – thousands upon thousands of them – of this perfect, goody-two-shoes girl. And her love interest is conveniently the polar opposite – he's this rude, badass guy, who hates everyone, but it just so happens that he falls head over heels for her, and she's the only person that he'll listen to, and bla bla bla. So realistic, you know?" I kick up my leg to inspect my heel, and swing it back down. "And that's all that girls want these days! They want attention, they want someone to fall head over heels for them, even if that person is arrogant and conceited and condescending. Like, have they no respect for themselves?"

He leans forward, eyes sparkling. "Yeah, what's all the hype about arrogant guys?"

"I know, right?" I burst out, nearly spilling my drink in excitement. "Bad guys deserve bad girls, and good guys deserve good girls. We shouldn't all like the bad guys, that's boring."

Draco rests his arms on his legs and stares out at the city, where the night lights flicker on and off with eternal energy. "You really think it's that simple?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do you think it's so black and white?" he asks. "Do you think that's what we all are, either good or bad?" He sighs. "I don't think black or white exists. I think there's a little bit of both in everything. Infinite truths and reasons and meanings, you know?"

I watch him in fascination. His breath forms tiny clouds in the December air as he speaks, and his cheeks are rosy from the cold. Synthetic lights catch between his fair eyelashes, and he is truly and perfectly white, and I think, he's right; surely a person this angelic cannot be all bad.

He turns to me, awaiting my response and I blink. "Uh – yeah. Yes. That was deep."

"Yeah." He pauses. "Um. We should get you back. Wouldn't want your parents to worry or anything."

I nod and hop down, stumbling as I do so. He puts his hand on my back to steady me and I force a rude scoff. "I can help myself, Malfoy."

The sound of his last name seems to call us both to our senses. He snaps away his hand and we walk down the stairway in an awkward silence, the unexpectedly long conversation ringing in our ears.

My mother pounces on me the moment we re-enter the ballroom. "Where have you been? Isobel, I've been so worried-"

I shake her off, embarrassedly. "I'm fine, Mum, stop it. I'm sorry." Cringing under my mother's embrace, I glance at the spot where Draco was, but he has disappeared into the crowd.

-

When I awake the next morning, to the sweet sound of Christmas carols drifting around with the chilly Christmas breeze, I notice a small brown package at the end of my bed. I unwrap it curiously - my first Christmas present of the year - and out falls a delicate, silver necklace.

A small star pendant dangles at the end of the necklace. When I look closer to admire it, I notice its tiny engravings: I.Y. - my initials.

My own star.


	10. eight

When the next term starts and I return to Hogwarts, I start working straight away. The O.W.L.s are drawing increasingly near, and the amount of work I have to do is distressing. I feel like I am falling behind, what with the D.A., and I only hope I can catch up by the time exams come around.

One dreary day, I'm sitting in the library with Ginny, who's only here to do her homework; something more than just enviable at this stage in the year. I'm working on a potions essay, but it's nearing impossible. Potions is by far my worst subject, and - to my horror - Snape has even called me out on it. I am doing all I can to be less terrible at it. After a while, Ginny nudges me. "Iz," she whispers. "Why is Malfoy staring at you?" She leans in closer. "Again?"

I feel my face heat up. "What?" I gaze across the library until my eyes find Malfoy, who is lounging back in his chair – his eyes fixed shamelessly on mine. I look away immediately, my heart speeding up with frustration.

"I think this is the third time I've seen him looking at you this week." Ginny looks at me earnestly, red hair falling across her face. "If he's bothering you, I'm happy to help out with a hex or two."

I shake my head and pick up my quill. "It's probably just a coincidence, Gin," I say. "Don't worry about it."

When Ginny leaves a while later, I stand up to search for more books for my essay. I'm getting virtually nowhere with it and if I want an acceptable mark, I'm going to need inspiration.

I have just picked out my third book when Draco pops up beside me. "Good afternoon," he says cheerfully. I respond with something between a grunt and a groan, which he ignores. "How was the rest of your Christmas?"

"Fine, and yours?"

He leans closer, his arm propped casually on the nearest desk. "What did you get up to?"

I glance at him. "That's none of your business."

"So _cold_ , aren't you?" says Draco, poking my arm. I stare at him. "Why do you put on such a hard front?"

"You're one to talk."

Draco hums. "You were much more talkative at that party, you know."

"I guess I was just in a good mood."

"Are you in a bad mood now?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"None of your business."

"You know, Belly," says Draco, and I glare at him. "I can't keep being nice to you if it's only a one-way thing. I'm going to need some co-operation here, or else" – he sighs – "I suppose I'll have to be mean to you again."

"Fine," I say, giving him my dirtiest look, which he returns with a mere smirk. "How was your Christmas, Malfoy?"

"Very nice, thank you," he says, cocking his chin as if thinking back on it. I suppress a smile. "Lots of quiet time, lots of presents" – he leans forward – "and what presents did you get, Belly?" My hand stops in mid-air, where it was ready to select a book from the shelf. Draco pulls softly at my shoulder as if turning me towards him, but I jerk away. He raises his hands. "I was just trying to get a look at-" He leans back, grinning, his eyes on my neck. "That. Nice _bling_."

I stare at him. I'd almost forgotten that the necklace was almost certainly from him, and feel embarrassed to have him catch me in it. "Uh, yeah," I stutter. "Why-"

"You told me to be nice," he replies simply.

I shake my head. "Unbelievable. You really are too rich for your own good, you know; if you think nice just means extravagant displays of money, then you can have the stupid thing back-" I toss back my hair, trying to unclasp the star pendant from my neck.

He shakes his head confusedly. "I wasn't trying to show off Young, I – hey!" he knocks my hand gently away from the necklace, and once again, my hand jerks away. He smirks.

Goosebumps shoot up on my skin and my hand tingles tremendously where he touched it. I clench my jaw, looking away from him and back at the books in front of me, desperately trying to convince myself that I am acting like this because his touch was unfamiliar.

"So, I hear you've been having some trouble with potions."

I groan. "Great. Great, I'm so glad you know that."

"You know, I'm very good at potions."

"I'm so happy for you."

"I could always help you."

"I'd rather fail."

Draco doesn't reply. Instead, he leans against the desk for a little longer, watching me collect more books. But what he probably doesn't realize is that I simply cannot go on with him watching – it's too distracting. After several awkward fumbles, I turn to him exasperatedly.

"What do you want, Malfoy?"

He feigns a look of being very taken aback. "I'm just standing here."

I slam the books down on the desk. "Will you stop? I don't know what I've done to you, but you've clearly got it in for me, and - and you're trying to do something. I don't know what it is, but buying me gifts, this entire act is just really immature and..." I trail off. Draco's head is cocked and he is gazing at me with a smile so innocent it looks unfitting on his roguish face. I take a deep breath. "I feel like you're taunting me and I'd like you to stop it."

"I'm not taunting you." Draco replies, his smile growing. "I just think you're interesting."

Once I've fully comprehended that he has really just said what he just said, I scoff loudly. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard." But Draco's smile doesn't fade, causing me to take a step back, feeling most frightened. And because I am confused and frightened and in a state of shock at what is happening in the moment, I say, before I can stop myself, "I don't think my boyfriend would be very happy to hear you say that."

Just like that, the smile drops from his face. "Who?"

"My boyfriend. Ron," I lie through my teeth. "But what do you care?"

"Of course I don't," he says sourly. He laughs nastily. "Sorry to disappoint, but I don't have _feelings_ for you, if that's what you thought, Young. In case you haven't noticed, I'm far above the standard of your cute little blood traitors."

He's like a bomb, a human bomb. One moment he is kind; overly kind, and the next horrid and spiteful, spitting out words that I'm not sure he ever really means. But as he walks away, leaving me in the library, breathless; standing alone and clutching bulky, tattered books to my chest, I know one thing for sure: I'm fascinated by him, whether I want to be or not.


	11. nine

We are kissing.

It's bright outside, and we are lying on the grass; our bodies intertwined beneath the late January sun. The sun shines through his hair, illuminating his intense gaze. I am blushing, but staring curiously back at him nonetheless - his striking features never fail to amaze me. He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, saying, "You're so beautiful."

His grey eyes look more stunning than ever as I stare into them, an abyss of silver, shades upon shades of pure metallic, almost unreal -

-and then I wake up, hot and sweaty, staring not at the eyes of Draco Malfoy but at the crimson drapes of my four poster bed.

What the hell?

Did I just have a dream about Draco Malfoy? And not just any dream – we had been kissing and... This isn't happening. No. I shake myself and stand up out of my bed, giving it an accusatory glare as I do so. No, I refuse to acknowledge it. The dream doesn't mean anything, it can't... But then again, people say that your dreams are just really your subconscious speaking and -

"You okay, Isobel?" says a voice behind me, and I jump. Hermione is standing at the corner of her bed, looking at me weirdly, like she knows exactly what is going on.

"Bad dream," I mumble, straightening my covers to avoid her piercing gaze. I look up at her guiltily, on the brink of confessing. But she just gives me a little smile, and moves on to change.

It's weird that I should dream about Draco, as he has been avoiding me for a while now. He hasn't talked to me or even acknowledged me whatsoever for the past week, pardoning the occasional awkward eye contact. He seems sulky, which is strange, but I prefer it this way – there had been some kind of – something - developing between the two of us, and it had to be stopped.

-

As I walk to my first class, I furrow my eyebrows and try to forget about it. But it's hard, and I have to restrain very hard from hitting myself – Draco Malfoy? Really? Why couldn't I have chosen someone sensible to dream about, like Harry or Ron?

Just then, the two pop up beside me. Immediately, I feel a huge sense of relief; if there is anyone to cheer me up, it's these two. I give them a tired smile. "Hey."

Harry gives me a mischievous grin. "Hi, Isobel. You happy to see Ron?"

I stare back blankly. "Uh, sure. Hi, Ron." But Ron's eyes are on the stone floor, determinedly avoiding mine.

"Go on, Ron," Harry teases. "You are her boyfriend after all."

"Oh!" I flush, understanding the situation all too quickly. "Ron, I - Sorry about that. Did Malfoy say something to you?"

Ron looks up, his face bright red. "Yeah, he mentioned something about it yesterday."

I smile sheepishly. "I'm so sorry. It just slipped out."

"If you wanted Ron to be your boyfriend," continues Harry, slinging an arm around my shoulders as we walk, "there were better ways to go about it, Isobel. I would happily have-"

I interrupt him by awkwardly shrugging off his arm. "No, no," I say, with a weak giggle. "Malfoy was annoying me, and I was just saying it to, uh-" I pause. I'm not sure I want to tell them what was really going on.

Harry looks at me seriously. "Isobel, if he's bothering you, you just tell us-"

"I know!" I say quickly. "Don't worry, I can handle him."

"Handle who?" says a voice very close to my ear, making me jump.

Harry and Ron round on Draco immediately, scowling. "Leave her alone," says Harry, warningly. People swarm around us, trying to get to class. I shoot Harry a grateful smile, but my heartbeat picks up nonetheless.

"There's no need for aggression, Potter," replies Malfoy coolly, but his eyes are fixed solely on mine. "She's a big girl."

Noticing how close Draco is to me, Ron steps forward angrily. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

Draco shoots Ron an even fouler glare than usual. "Just a word with your girlfriend, Weasel," he replies, and with a strong tug, pulls me to the side of the corridor and out of the flow of students. I motion reluctantly for Harry and Ron to go on without me. They slouch onwards, hard looks on their faces.

Draco faces me, leaning at ease against the stone wall. "Finished that potions essay?"

I narrow my eyes at him and fold my arms. "Why the sudden change of attitude?"

He looks at me with big, innocent eyes. "Whatever do you mean?"

"I mean that this last week you haven't been quite as annoying as usual." I purse my lips. "You were very distant."

"Missed me, did you?" When I don't reply, he grins widely. "I don't know what you're talking about," he says. "So? That potions essay?"

I roll my eyes and turn away to look at the crowd of students, which is starting to disperse into class now. "I changed my mind," I tell him. "You were less annoying back when you were mean."

"Ouch, Belly. I thought you wanted me to be nice to you?"

"I said nice, not so... Melodramatic."

"I was just trying to help," he says, his voice singsong.

"Well," I say. "I'm seeing far more of you these days than I would like to." He stays silent, watching me. The corridor has emptied out now, leaving just the two of us leaning against the stone wall. However, for two people – two enemies – we are in awfully close proximity. I clear my throat awkwardly. "Was this really worth making me late to class for?"

He smiles. "Absolutely."

"I thought prefects were supposed to set a good example?" I go on, speaking nervously through the silence. "That – being late – that's not a very good example."

He cocks his head, as if the conversation is boring him. "Exceptions are made for inquisitorial members."

I snort. "You're part of the inquisitorial squad? Oh, I should have known." He says nothing, so I go on. "You're perfect for it. It's basically a group of suck-ups who don't do anything except 'patrol the corridors', which is rubbish-"

"Did you know," he interrupts, "that we can take house points?"

"I highly doubt that."

"Oh we can," he says. "And especially from people who insult the board of organization like that."

I gaze at him unabashed. "Prove it."

Without warning, he turns and nudges me against the wall, locking me in place with his knee. "Make me", he breathes.

I gasp. "I-"

"How many points from Gryffindor?" he asks softly, a smirk tempting to play across his lips.

I determinedly avoid his eyes, staring at the wall behind him. I don't struggle, as I am trapped now, but at the same time, I'm not uncomfortable. I bite my lip.

"I can feel your heart beating," Draco says, his eyes sparkling. I gulp – my heart isn't simply beating, it's hammering, ready to burst out of my ribcage. He sneaks closer. "I bet Weasley never does this to you."

I can feel the warmth of his breath against my face. "What are you doing?" I hear myself say, my voice unusually high.

He grins. "What are _you_ doing?"

"I don't-"

"Are you uncomfortable?"

I hesitate. He's close enough to me now that I can see every tiny hair on his face; I could probably count every one of his eyelashes if I wanted to. His hand is touching mine, barely, and I can't help but notice how much softer it was than I imagined. I realise that I never noticed the pink curve of his lips, or how many shades of light and dark blue splash his grey eyes.

He is in such close proximity that I can feel his heart beating – but nowhere near as hard as mine, which is by now thumping in my throat; in such close proximity, that I could easily just lean forward and-

Then I come to my senses and shrug him off.

You see, when things shake you in life, they don't always do it all at once. They often pass in a blur, and hit you bit by bit until you understand what's going on. You're left at the end of it to figure out what had just happened, how you feel towards it, and even things you should have said or should have done. But now, I am scared and I am confused, and I make this very clear to Draco as I clutch my books to my chest and hurry out of the deserted corridor without a word.

However, as I cross the Hogwarts courtyard to my next class, I realize I've never quite appreciated how blue the sky can be.


	12. ten

About a week later, I find myself in the library again, in the same spot I had been the time Ginny spotted Draco staring at me. This time, Ginny sits next to me again, but I don't need her to tell me he is intently watching me. His legs are up on his table, where his books aren't even open. In the past week, Draco has been going more and more out of his way to be overly nice to me, abusing his prefect-ness to get me to be nice back, and spending more and more time winding me up, even just by staring shamelessly at me in class. Somehow, he is also spending more and more time on my mind.

Ginny looks up and curiously follows my line of vision. "Malfoy again?" she groans. "He's actually obsessed with you."

I shake my head and sigh loudly, trying to return to my studies. The sigh must have been very loud, however, as it is at once mimicked from across the library. I glare at Draco, who smirks wider than ever.

Ginny snaps her book shut, drawing me back to attention. She looks at me sceptically. "I'm done my homework," she says. "Do you mind if I leave?"

"Uh, sure Gin," I say dazedly. "I can't keep you here forever."

Ginny walks out, shooting apprehensive looks back at me as she does so. I glance back at Draco, who gives me a smug wave. Just then, Madam Pince passes him and smacks him on the head with a magazine, reprimanding him for resting his feet on the table. Unashamed, he gives her a charming smile and stands up to stroll away – right towards me.

He waits until he is right beside me to speak. "Free seat?"

"Actually, that's saved," I say, staring at Ginny's empty chair in refusal to look at him. "For, um. Neville."

Draco sits down at once, one eyebrow tilted in amusement. "I'll leave when Longbottom's here then."

"He'll, uh-" I look up at him, at his pale grey eyes and white-blond hair that flops into them today, trying to gather my thoughts. "Neville will be here soon. "

Seeing straight through my lie, Draco snickers. His eyes crinkle up at the corners. "You're all talk, Young, you know that?"

A loud "shush" ensues from the other side of the room. I glance at Madam Pince, who is glaring at us.

Draco is still looking at me. His eyes skim my neck. "The necklace looks great on you," he whispers. When I don't reply, he moves closer. "I knew you'd like it." He cocks his head. "But you know, you're betraying your own self by wearing it."

"How so?"

"Because I know you. It doesn't matter how much you like the necklace. If you really hated me, you wouldn't wear it."

"You don't know me," I say. I should probably look away from him - break eye contact, at least. But I can't.

"Yes, I do."

"No, you don't."

"Well." He smiles. "I'd like to know you."

I stare at him, speechless. He is deathly close to me now, and I want to move away; I really should, but every nerve in my body is screaming. _I'd like to know you._

"I told you, Belly," Draco continues. "You're all talk. You wouldn't wear the necklace if this cold front you put on was real."

I respond with a jerky shake of my head. "People are looking," I mutter.

His smile grows. I can't help it - I look away, stare down at my book. He bobs in the edge of my vision; eyes deviously sparkling. He whispers, "So you don't deny it."

"I never said that."

He sneaks closer. "Say it then." His lips brush against my ear as he speaks, sending shivers through my skin; like when someone touches you in a ticklish spot but it doesn't tickle; it just feels weirdly arousing.

I twist my head to get him off, but he stays in close proximity.

"People are looking, Malfoy," I repeat shakily, even though the only person on my mind is him.

"Is that so?" If I move any further away from him, I'll fall off my chair. My heart is pounding.

My voice is weak. "Yeah."

"And why should I care?"

"Because-" I mutter, trying desperately to avoid his touch. "Because you don't- I mean-"

"Yes?" He places his fingertips on my arm, and bolts of electricity shoot through my veins. I don't want to want him, but I do, and it's unbearable.

"Malfoy," I say, warningly.

He places his lips near my ear again. "Yes?" he murmurs.

With that, I snap up out of my chair, stumbling as I do so. Draco watches as I gather up my books, a lazy smirk painted across his face.

With his long legs, it takes him only several steps to catch up with me as I briskly walk out of the library. The blood pulses through my veins. I can still feel where his fingers were, red-hot on my skin.

I turn out of the library, into the deserted corridor. His footsteps echo mine, and my unsteady breaths sound loud in my own ears. I focus my eyes on the end of the corridor: just two rights and a left until I get to the Gryffindor common room. Two rights and a left, and I will completely avoid whatever I so want to do-

"Young."

He sounds like he isn't smirking anymore. I ignore him; if I turn around I'll surely break. I'm practically running now; away from inevitable disaster.

"Hey, Young."

Draco grabs my hand – the sensitive part between one's thumb and forefinger – and with that, I crumble.

I spin around and kiss him on the lips, hard, as I have wanted to do for so long. After several long, breathless moments, I feel him grin, and pull me closer.

It is incredible. It's better than anything I could ever have dreamed of – just him, and me, and _us_ , and nothing else matters.

"Draco," I mumble, and at that, he pushes me into the nearest stone wall, kissing me harder. I realize it's the first time I've ever called him by his first name.

When he kisses me, it just feels _right_. He puts his hands in all the right places and moves in just the right way. No one has ever kissed me like this before.

"Oi! MALFOY!"

And with that, the moment dies. I groan and sink my forehead into Draco's chest. _No no no why why why-_

"Malfoy!" Ron is storming at us from the other end of the corridor, at an awkwardly far distance. Draco stares at him, unabashed. It's only when Ron get close that I snap to attention, as I realize he's going to try hurt Draco – and Harry isn't here to stop him.

But in this situation, would Harry have stopped him?

"MALFOY," roars Ron, now near enough to whip back his arm and throw a punch. Draco dodges him by millimetres, but Ron keeps going. He's furious. "Malfoy – what – the – _hell_ – do you think you're doing?"

Draco clenches his jaw, annoyed, and I can tell he's on the verge of fighting back.

Ron throws another punch. "You can't just kiss her like that, what the-, you can't just-"

" _Ron_!" I shout, pushing him away, hard. He pauses to look at me in confusion, his chest heaving. Draco moves cautiously behind me, ready to protect me if needs be. I stare at Ron. "You talk about it like I'm some kind of doll, like I'm not able to act for myself," I say, a lump building in my throat.

Ron's face started to turn very red. "I-"

"This is my fault, not his," I say.

His face falls, and I feel an awful pang of guilt. I turn from Ron to Draco, realising the weight of what I have just done.

Draco stares at me, but Ron gapes. He takes a step back, and my heart sinks. "You kissed Malfoy?"

I gulp, and don't reply.


	13. eleven

The next day, I wake up early and dress quickly. Before I can think twice, I march straight to the Owlery, clutching in my hand a letter I wrote last night.  
  
  


_Malfoy,_

_I've told you this already, but I mean it now._

_You're really going to have to stay away._

_Please, go back to hating me. It's better like that._   
  
  


Not bothering to sign my name, I fold the parchment and attach it to one of the school owls. As I watch him fly off into the morning air, I am torn. Do I want him to stay away? Yes. Do I want him to kiss me again? Also yes.

Just then, something shuffles behind me. I whip around, feeling guilty. Hermione is standing by the doorway, looking utterly unsurprised to see me here. I haven't had the chance to talk to her since the kiss, but I'm sure she's heard. Everyone's heard.

I move closer to her. "Are you angry?"

Hermione makes a sound of disbelief. "Am I - of course I'm angry, Isobel. I don't know what you were thinking."

I turn away disappointedly. I'm not sure what I was hoping her reaction would be, but it wasn't this. "I'm not quite sure myself," I mumble, but it's almost a lie.

"I mean, it's Draco Malfoy," she continues, but her tone isn't angry; more confused. "I thought you hated him, we all did-"

"I – I did," I say miserably. "He's... I don't know, he's different."

She gapes at me, incredulous. "Different? Is he not the same person that's tormented us all since first year?"

I shake my head. "You don't understand," I say quietly. "When I'm with him, he's - there's just so much more to him. I'm not sure I understand either."

Hermione furrows her eyebrows, clearly flustered. "But it's Malfoy, for heaven's sake."

"I _know_." I shake my head and turn to stare glumly out of the Owlery window. "It doesn't matter now anyway. I've sent him a letter." I laugh softly, acknowledging the stupidity of it all. "It won't happen again."

"That's probably for the best," she says gently. She shakes her head. "Isobel, you might feel all of those things right now but you have to think straight for a second. If you date Malfoy, it'll change everything... Think about us. There's few people in the world that Harry hates more than Malfoy and-"

"Okay," I say angrily. "I'm sorry, okay? It's not like I went through the list of people Harry hates and picked one to-" I break off. "To kiss. I'm _sorry_. I didn't plan it out like this."

Hermione looks doubtful. "Do you trust him?"

The owl is long gone, and I wonder if Draco has read the letter yet. "Yes, I trust him."

Hermione pauses, a moment too long. "Ron seems to think that maybe – just maybe, he's trying to get information on the DA out of you."

My jaw drops and I swing around to face her, furious. "You think he's _using_ me? You don't think I'd be able to tell?"

"No, Isobel, I-"

"I'll have you know he hasn't mentioned a thing about the DA, not a word. And if you think-"

" _Isobel_ ," Hermione interrupts. "Calm down, I believe you." She sighs and places a consoling hand on my arm. "I don't understand why you like him, and I probably never will. But I do know that it would be better for everyone – including yourself – if you just tried to forget about him."

I open my mouth to scoff, to scorn the idea of ever simply forgetting about Draco Malfoy, when a voice interrupts me. "Young! There you are!"

I whip around to see who else but Draco Malfoy at the other end of the corridor, clutching a dreadfully familiar piece of parchment. "Young!" he repeats loudly, striding towards us. "Sorry, I mean Belly."

Hermione is watching me carefully, and it makes me even more nervous. She raises an eyebrow at me, as if to say, _your choice_.

I shake my head, and sling my bag over my shoulder. "I'm sorry," I say, avoiding her eyes. "I just have to at least talk to him."

I hitch up my bag and walk towards Draco. Once I'm close enough, he turns to walk with me, throwing an arm around my neck. I shrug it off awkwardly, turning back to see if Hermione saw. But she is gone.

"I liked your letter," Draco says. Despite his cocky grin, he looks like he hadn't slept very well either. His shirt is only half buttoned and his tie is loose, and hair flops lazily into his face.

He also looks like a work of art.

I narrow my eyes at him. "You _liked_ it?"

"Actually, no," he says. "I hated it. It was the worst thing I've ever read."

I furrow my eyebrows. "Why did you hate it?"

He stops and turns to me. "Because it didn't make any sense. Why would I stay away from you?"

People are starting to file around us now and they send us curious looks. I pick uncomfortably at the hem of my sleeve. "Isn't it obvious?" I ask, trying to keep my voice low. I gesture at the space between us. "This – whatever this is – it's never going to work out."

Now it's his turn to be confused. "Why not?"

I shift on my feet, very aware that people are now listening into our conversation. "Why do all of our conversations take place in the middle of busy corridors?" I say weakly. It was meant to be a joke, but it sounds awkward and feeble.

He's irritated now. "Oh, if they bother you that much-" Draco takes my hand and leads me away from the people. Once we find a secluded classroom, he shuts the door and swings around to face me. "What's the problem?"

"Malfoy-"

"Back to last name terms again, are we?"

I stare at him. "Fine, Draco. I think we're wasting our time here."

"I don't," he replies evenly. "I think we've been wasting our time for a very long while. But not now."

His honesty startles me and I blush. "Really?"

"Yes." He watches me. "I like you, Belly."

I shake my head, trying desperately to ignore my thudding heart. I turn away, hands on my hips. "I'm sorry," I say. "I'm sorry, but my friends have such a bad history with you and they don't want-"

"So?" he interrupts. "Who cares what your friends what? Shouldn't you think about yourself for once? What do you want?"

I collapse against the wall. He doesn't understand. "It's not a matter of what I want, Draco. Practically all of my friendships are on the line here, friendships that were established years ago, and losing those friendships isn't what I want!"

His expression softens and he draws closer. "Well," he says gently. "I think that if you're willing to make sacrifices for them, they should be for you."

I look down. "I know."

"Why are you following your head over your heart?"

Despite myself, I smile. "You're the last person I'd have expected to tell me that."

He dismisses this. "Just give me a chance, Belly. Why are you so scared?"

I don't reply, and Draco is silent for a long time. Then, he places his hands on the wall, either side of my head. He isn't very close, but it makes me look up at him.

Every bone in my body is telling me to lean into him, but my mouth betrays me. "I'm sorry," I say. "But there are so many reasons why not."

Draco leans closer to me, his lips turning up ever so slightly at the corners. His eyes are soft, and suddenly, I see him not as the same Draco Malfoy I have visualized for years, but someone who is kind and careful, and all these other things I've failed to see before. "Tell me them," he says quietly.

I pause. "Well," I say. "Firstly, we're in completely different houses."

Without warning, he plants a soft kiss on my cheek. My eyes flutter to his and he smiles politely. "Yes, continue."

"Secondly, we don't even know each other that well."

Draco smiles again. "I beg to differ," he says, and presses his lips to my other cheek. "Thirdly?"

"Well, we're both very, um, hot-headed, and I think we would fight a lot."

He kisses my forehead. "A bit of excitement never hurt anyone. Go on."

"Lastly," I pause again. "Lastly, I think that maybe, if all my friends leave me," I bite my lip. "Well, you might just get sick of me."

He raises an eyebrow and pecks my nose. "I'll never get sick of you."

I want to melt into the wall. "What are you doing to me?" I ask weakly.

He shrugs, a helpless, cute shrug. "You tell me." He's close now, but not the kind of close that makes my heart pound in my throat, like the day in the corridor. Instead, it comforts me. I feel safe.

"Kiss me," he whispers, but it's not an order. It's an invitation.

"The problem is," I say breathlessly. "If I kiss you now, I don't think I'd be able to stop."

My cheeks are on fire now, as I take in what I just said. But Draco is smiling – a genuine smile. He tucks my hair behind my ear and leans closer. "You have too many problems."


	14. twelve

The news that Draco Malfoy is dating a Gryffindor spreads like wildfire. Students from all years and houses, students that I have never even spoken to, pay newfound attention to me. Wherever I go, people stare, whisper, and even point – to the extent that it seems ridiculous; all I did was kiss a boy.

Because if there is one person that Gryffindor house hate as a whole, it's Draco Malfoy. If there is one person, out of all the potential students, with whom Gryffindors should probably not mix, it's Draco Malfoy.

Side note: mix, in this case, encompasses all to do with socialising – no mixing means no talking with, no laughing with, no hanging out with. And definitely no kissing.

It brings out the fickleness in people – how little they really care for me, should I do something so very traitorous (yet really, so minor, in the grand scheme of things). My friendships with people and their opinions of me are toppled by their strong hatred for a person I kissed. Now, I can't even walk down the common room stairs without earning at least one dirty look from a classmate. Their entire view of me changed, based on one person in my life.

Some of them, however, seem to think that maybe they're wise enough to change my mind. Maybe, I'm going through a rough patch or something and don't realise what I'm doing. I get many offers of advice and apparent wisdom, like, "It's not too late!" and "Realise what you're doing!". Incidentally, there is a lot said about Draco's family, rather than his actual self.

But what they don't tell me is this:

That falling in love is a lot like getting drunk.

They don't tell me that his laugh will radiate through my veins, and his kisses will leave me light headed, and his touch will make me giddy. That simply being with him will make me inexplicably spontaneous and happy and alive. They don't tell me that I will be irrational and make unreasonable decisions, and stay up all night thinking because my dreams are no longer better than my reality.

That in the end, I will be so terribly dizzy that I won't remember what it's like to be sober.

They don't tell me that I will forget everything when I'm with him. That I wouldn't ever have known this blissful, blurry euphoria if Draco Malfoy wasn't so terribly intoxicating.

I close my eyes in bliss as he pushes my hair away from my face and plants a kiss on my forehead. If I opened them, I would be looking at not only him, but the most wonderful view of the Hogwarts grounds and the forest, lake and hills beyond it. Either way works for me. We are sitting against a wall on the Astronomy Tower, as Draco seems to have a thing for seclusion and great views. Other people sneak up here sometimes at night, but when it's daytime, we have the whole place to ourselves.

"What time is it?"

"Just gone eight," he says, watching me carefully. "Why?"

"I have to go-" I pause. I keep forgetting that not everyone I am close to is in the DA, and Draco in particular is not allowed to even know that it exists.

"Go where?" he says curiously. I have disappeared on Draco multiple times without being able to tell him that I'm going to a DA meeting. "Where do you keep running off to?"

I shake my head and look away. "Sorry," I say. "I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"Because you're on the Inquisitorial Squad, Draco, and I know Umbridge keeps ranting on about – about it."

"Yeah, she's pretty desperate to find out what you're doing. Which is why I'm so curious."

I sigh, not wanting to say the thing that has been nagging at my mind for so long. "My – my friends seem to think," I say slowly, "that you – that you might just be doing this on behalf of your – your squad and stuff."

"Doing what?"

"This. Us. That's you're with me on behalf of Umbridge. Not that she set you up to it, but that you-" I force a laugh, feeling ashamed at the bewildered expression on his face. "It's stupid, right?"

Draco looks heartbreakingly hurt, and suddenly, I know that all my worries have been for nothing. "Belly, you surely don't believe-"

"No," I say at once. "No, I don't." I move closer and kiss his cheek. "I'm sorry."

But Draco takes my shoulders and pushes me back gently. "Belly, you know that she wants us to find out what you're all doing. But what is said between you and me stays there."

"I know," I say, feeling immensely guilty. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he says, but looks away.

I groan. "Please don't sulk."

"I'll sulk if I want to sulk."

I stand up and lean down to kiss his cheek. "I'll miss you," I say cheesily.

"Of course you will, you're desperately in love with me," he mumbles, the corner of his lips twitching.

I grin. "You wish," I say. I wave goodbye, and run down the astronomy tower steps. I start towards the seventh floor, hoping desperately that I won't be too late.

But thankfully, when I reach the Room of Requirement, I bump into Ginny, who is just going in herself. "You're lucky you didn't forget this time," she says, raising an eyebrow at me. "Ernie Macmillan just tried to convince me you're spying for Malfoy." I scoff, and she pauses at the door. "I still hate Malfoy, but on your behalf I told him to shove his wand up-"

"Ginny, Isobel," calls Harry from the other side of the room, where the DA members are huddled around him. "You're just in time. We're going to practice patronuses today."


	15. thirteen

_And with every day that passed since then, with every word you spoke; every moment you hated me, loved me, I fell a little bit deeper. It was wrong, but nothing could have made me happier. You were the best mistake I ever made._

_-_

"Oh, finally!"

I have been looking for Harry, Ron and Hermione for ages. When I find them at last, standing in front of the hourglasses that count up house points, they all shoot me gloomy smiles. No one looks particularly happy to see me, and I don't blame them. Yesterday, Draco caught Harry as we all fled from a DA meeting, after Umbridge discovered what we were doing. Obviously, the DA had been a highly illegal organisation thanks to all of her decrees, and Harry's capture led not to Harry nearly being expelled, but to Dumbledore taking credit for the DA and then having to escape. Essentially, it was because of Draco that Dumbledore was now gone and Umbridge our new principal.

I widen my eyes when I see crystals flying up in the hourglasses, most rapidly so in Gryffindor's. "What's happening?" I ask.

I step forward just as Fred and George come down the marble staircase. "Noticed, have you?" says Fred.

"Malfoy just docked us about fifty points each!" says Harry furiously.

Fred glances at me. "Right, Isobel," he says. "I don't know how to tell you this, but your boyfriend is a little git."

"I know," I mumble.

"Actually," says George, "he's not just a little git, he's a big, huge, fat git who-"

"I'm pretty sure even Isobel hates Malfoy right now," says Hermione, giving me a sympathetic look. I force a smile.

"Well, it's not just him," says George, though he looks skeptical. "Montague tried to do the same to us during break. He would have gotten away with it too if we hadn't shoved him in a vanishing cabinet."

Hermione stares at them, taken aback. "But you'll get into even more trouble for that!"

"Oh, we don't really care about that anymore," says Fred breezily. "Besides, we've decided a bit of mayhem is just what our new head needs."

"What?" says Ron, looking startled.

"You mustn't!" whispers Hermione. "Umbridge would love a reason to expel you!"

George smiles. "We don't care about staying anymore," he says casually. Hermione gapes. "We'd walk out right now if we weren't determined to do our bit for Dumbledore first."

When Fred and George leave, Hermione and Ron whisper furiously about what they might have planned. Harry stares at them blankly, with no apparent interest in their conversation.

"I really hope it's nothing stupid," says Ron. "My mum's going to be furious."

"Don't be ridiculous," says Hermione impatiently. "I just hope it isn't anything dangerous. They can be a bit overly reckless sometimes, can't they? What do you think, Isobel?"

"I'm thinking that we have absolutely no chance of winning the house cup this year," I say miserably. "The stones are nearly all gone."

They all spin around to look at the hourglasses. The ruby stones are flying up faster than ever. "Well," says Ron angrily, "I bet we'd still have twice that left if it weren't for your boyfriend!"

"I don't like the way you say that like it's my fault," I say coolly, gazing into the hourglass. "But you can bet everything that I'll set him straight."

-

I start calling his name the moment I'm close enough to knock on the wall concealing the Slytherin common room entrance. Just about everyone in the DA has given me some strongly worded opinion on Draco's actions by now, all of them blaming me for his actions, and I'm ready to burst with anger.

"Draco! _Dra_ -"

After a few minutes, the wall dissolves, allowing Draco to slam open the door, glaring at me. " _What_?" he hisses. "Everyone in there can hear-"

Seeing my expression, he breaks off. "I hope you're very happy with yourself," I say coldly. Draco sighs slowly like he knew this was coming. I glare at him, awaiting an explanation. "Well?"

Draco avoids looking at me. "You know I had to do it, Isobel."

"No, you didn't. Umbridge being our new headmistress may benefit you but it's awful for pretty much everyone else in the school, and it's all thanks to your choices. You didn't _have_ to do anything, Draco, you had every right not to-"

"Not necessarily-"

"Harry"- I say, motioning upwards with a wild hand – "is being interrogated right now in Umbridge's office, with Veritaserum! Is that what you wanted? To see us destroyed?"

"I do what I want to do," Draco says stiffly, "And anyway, I got fifty points for Slytherin for doing so."

"Fifty points for Slytherin?" I interrupt sarcastically. "Oh, you must be so proud! Congratulations, what a worthy cause-"

Draco sits down on a step and puts his elbows on his knees, clearly trying to contain his temper. "Isobel, I said I would respect your privacy but obviously I have duties-"

"Duties!" I interrupt again. "Your duties, oh, my apologies-"

"I didn't even do anything!" he says. "I didn't rat you out, all I did was catch Potter!"

I stare at him, offended. "You're not even sorry, are you?"

"I have nothing to be sorry for!"

Just then, a loud _bang_ goes off, and Draco and I fall silent. After a moment's hesitation, I dart to the nearest window. A shower of red and gold sparks is falling from the sky. I grin, suddenly realizing what Fred and George had been talking about this morning. After another pop, a river of silvery stars develops mid-air, blinking several times before dissolving. I hear a crash and several delighted shrieks above us, indicating that the twins' fireworks have entered the school as well.

Draco stares, transfixed, at the fireworks beside me. "What on earth-" he pauses, noticing my expression. "You know who did this?"

"Yes, I do," I say indignantly, "but I'm not telling you who, because you'll probably just go rat them out as well."

After having gone off in a huff with Draco, most of the girls start to be nicer again. They've just about clarified that I'm definitely not a spy for Draco and his opinions aren't mine, and this makes me feel somewhat better. Hermione, Ginny and Luna are all particularly kind to me, and seem to encourage others to do the same, although they still make it very clear that they don't approve of Draco.

From there, it's more confusing than ever to be with him. I soon realize that his intentions were solely towards Harry. However, I can't keep away the constant thought of how much easier life would be if we were just on the same side. This seeming war is getting more urgent and sides are becoming more apparent, and my relationship with Draco is more complicated than ever.


	16. fourteen

As time goes by, being with Draco gets harder and more complex than I ever thought it could be.

I realise, more and more, how amazing he is. We have known each other for years now, but there is still so much to learn and say and hear. And he, he is wonderful: he talks and listens and laughs and does everything my friends said he wouldn't. He is funny and clever and loyal and protective, and all of these qualities that I never imagined in him. He is magnificent, but he's also Draco Malfoy, and being his girlfriend is nowhere near simple. The other Gryffindor girls seem to have taken pity on me, however, because they are starting to be nice again, bit by bit. They seem to have realised that my moralities actually differ to Draco's hereditary ones, and are slowly dropping their cold fronts.

But it's difficult. Because as time progresses, darkness draws near. War impends and stability trembles, and it becomes increasingly clear that times will only get tougher. Even in between big exams and all the strict rules enforced on us, the feeling grows that this might just be the easy part.

"You know, you might actually be lucky Malfoy's not on our side of it all," says Ginny, wrinkling her nose as she, Luna and I pass Umbridge's wall of educational decrees. Ginny was one of the last people to warm up to me again, but we're getting there. "If he was, he'd just be sulky all the time. This is all benefiting him, so he's super content – which is great for you."

I chuckle reluctantly. "I guess there's something good in him always getting his way."

"Other than making him even more of a stuck-up brat, and-"

I interrupt her with a shove on her arm. "Yeah, yeah."

"I think it's very impressive of you to stay with him," says Luna kindly. "Most people wouldn't have the patience."

"That's true," Ginny sniggers, "you'd need a lot of patience for - wait." Ginny has stopped in the middle of the corridor, her head cocked to the side.

"Wh-" I start, but she shushes me. And then I hear it.

"That's Harry," whispers Luna.

Harry's voice is sounding from inside a classroom that we have just passed. He is yelling, but I've never heard him yell like this before. He sounds desperate.

Ginny sighs. "He's having a really rough time these days, isn't he?"

"What do you think he's shouting about?"

She steps towards the classroom and beckons for us to follow. "Well, let's find out."

When we step inside, Harry is gripping a desk in the corner of the classroom. Ron and Hermione stand next to him looking anxious. Harry stops yelling the second they hear us come in, and the three whip around to face us.

"Hi," says Ginny hesitantly. "We heard Harry from outside. What's going on?"

"Never you mind," says Harry roughly, turning away with his head in his hands.

Ginny raises her eyebrows. "There's no need for that tone," she says evenly. "If something's wrong, we'd like to help."

"Well, you can't help."

"You're being quite rude, you know," says Luna calmly, causing Harry to swear into his hands.

I look pointedly at Ron and Hermione. "Is there anything we can do? If there isn't, we'll leave right now."

"Harry," says Hermione. "Harry, they can help."

"We haven't got time-"

"Harry," Hermione says again, her tone increasingly desperate. "We just need to make sure Sirius isn't in headquarters. You can't go charging off to London if he's safely at home."

"I told you, I _saw_ -"

"We just need to check-"

"Fine," Harry says angrily. "Fine, but we need to make it quick."

Hermione nods quickly, but her eyes are terrified. "We'll use Umbridge's fire to try contact him. You go get your cloak. Ron and I will draw Umbridge away and-" she turns to us- "will you three make a distraction?"

"No problem," I say quickly.

"We'll say someone's let off a load of Garotting Gas," says Ginny. "That way the corridor will be empty and you can get in."

"Great," says Hermione. "It should only take a few minutes. Harry, we'll meet you at the end of the corridor-" But Harry has already flung himself out the door and is hurtling back towards the dormitories to get his cloak.

Minutes later, Ginny, Luna and I are standing at the ends of Umbridge's corridor, chasing off students. "Wait, so why can't we go past?" says a sixth year Ravenclaw boy, peeking over my shoulder and looking sorely tempted to push past me.

"Some kind of gas was let off," I say, shrugging. "I don't know. Umbridge's orders."

He looks down at me over his nose. "If it's Umbridge's orders, why aren't the Inquisitorial Squad doing it?"

I force a laugh. "What is this, an interrogation?" Then, in a moment of sheer luck, I spot a platinum blond head over his shoulder. "Look, there's one of them!" I reach over and grab Draco's hand.

"What's happening here?" asks Draco, looking around confusedly. The boy gives me a skeptical look and I let out a shaky laugh.

"Draco here is one of the highest-regarded members of the squad," I say, squeezing his hand hard. "Draco, why don't you tell this nice boy that he needs to leave?"

Draco looks him up and down and gives him a dirty look. "You heard her, clear off," he says. The boy glares at him and stalks away. Draco leans into me. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," I say at once. "Please leave."

"Is something wrong?"

"No Draco, but they'll never forgive me if I'm the one to mess everything up. Please go."

He narrows his eyes. "Fine, but I'm only letting you off. None of your friends."

I let out a sigh of relief as he leaves and turn around to see what's going on. At the other end of the corridor, Ginny is waving away students, looking utterly unruffled. In the middle of the hall, and in the slightest, most inconspicuous movement, I notice Umbridge's door open and close. Harry and Hermione are inside.

But only moments after Draco has left, I gasp as a heavy arm is flung around my neck.

I aim a kick at the thick shins of my captor. "Caught out," leers Crabbe's voice in my ear. I look around. Goyle has grabbed Luna, and Crabbe is grinning meanly down at me. "We've got you this time."

"Draco-" I kick his shin again, and he winces. "Draco won't like this."

Crabbe ignores me and shoves me forward. To my horror I see Ginny fighting off other Inquisitorial Squad members at the end of the corridor. Neville has joined her in an attempt to help, but the captors are much bigger and stronger, and their attempts are useless. My heart sinks.


	17. fifteen

Crabbe drags me towards Umbridge's office, sniggering at my feeble attempts to fight him off. When we enter, my heart sinks even more as I take in the scene before me. Harry is standing wandless before Umbridge, looking frantic. Ron and Hermione have also been caught, and are helplessly trying to escape. And Draco, in the corner of the office, is leaning against the wall, restraining an angry Neville and calmly surveying the scene. His smug expression falls as his eyes lock onto mine.

Once Draco sees Crabbe holding onto me, he shoots him a look so dirty that it might have been amusing, were this not so serious. He says at once, "Crabbe, switch with me." He shoves Neville towards Crabbe, who practically grabs him by the neck.

"Don't choke him," I say indignantly to Crabbe, as Neville's face starts to turn purple.

Draco leans against the wall and takes my hands behind my back, playing with my fingers instead of restraining me. I look around at my friends, who are actively struggling against their captors, and feel the wild urge to laugh at the stupidity and unfairness of it all. While Millicent Bullstrode holds a tight grip around Hermione's front, Draco's fingers are entwined loosely with mine.

"What are you doing?" he mumbles in my ear. I don't reply. "Don't be stupid, Belly."

I stare at Umbridge, who is interrogating Harry. She looks rosy and dishevelled from her efforts. My stomach knots with hatred. Draco tries again. "I can get you out of here, Belly." I shake my head. Ginny shoots a suspicious look in our direction, and I shift to hide the fact that he isn't restraining me. Draco traces my palm with his finger and leans imperceptibly closer to my ear. "We can leave right now, if you just co-operate."

At that, I whip around and glare at him. "I'm not leaving," I hiss. He shrugs disgruntledly.

I have never seen Umbridge this flustered. "What could you have been doing," she leers, "that is so serious you can't reveal it to me?" Harry doesn't reply, and she jabs him in the chest with her wand. "Who were you talking to in the fire? Tell me!"

"That's none of your business," snarls Harry.

Umbridge peers at him, a hungry expression on her face. Fear jolts through me. "Well, with no veritaserum," she breathes, and Harry leans away from her. "There is no other way... Yes... I suppose a simple Cruciatus curse would help loosen your tongue-"

"But that's illegal," I burst out, drowning out several other cries of protest. Draco nudges me indignantly.

Umbridge barely notices that other people have spoken. "I am sure Cornelius will understand that I had no other choice," she says breathlessly, pointing her wand at Harry.

"You're joking!" I say, so loudly that Draco groans and drops his forehead into my back.

"A matter of Ministry security," Umbridge goes on, ignoring me. She is panting now, and her words come out fragmented. "I do not want to, but there appears to be no other choice. _Cruc_ -"

"NO!" shrieks Hermione, her voice so cracked and desperate that Umbridge steps back in shock. "No, Harry, you have to tell her!"

Movement seizes in the entire room as everyone turns around to stare at Hermione. The others cry out; stuck between fear of telling Umbridge the truth and gratefulness that she didn't get to Crucio Harry. Ron, Ginny, Neville and even Luna have wheeled around, staring at Hermione like they've never seen her before.

But I know. Before I ever kissed Draco, Hermione and I were best friends. I know her, and I know her loyalty to Harry. If anyone will come up with a brilliant plan mid-chaotic scene, it's her.

"Yes," Umbridge murmurs, coaxing Hermione forward. "What is it, girl? Tell me."

Hermione takes a deep breath. "We were trying to contact Dumbledore."

I fling a hand over my mouth to stop myself from grinning at Hermione's brilliance. Umbridge, who doesn't see through the lie, grabs onto this sentence. "You know where he is?"

"No," says Hermione, and Harry stares at her. "We were trying to find him – to give him his – his secret weapon."

"Secret weapon?" breathes Umbridge, and I have to stop myself from sniggering at the lie and Umbridge's reaction to it. "Take me to it. Show me." Hermione glances at Harry and nods tentatively. "You two," says Umbridge, indicating at them with her wand, "can go ahead and show me the way." She turns abruptly to the door. "Lead on."

The silence that follows the three's departure is unsettling.

Ginny looks at me wide-eyed, and suddenly I realise – Harry and Hermione have gone to escape on their own, so it's up to us to get ourselves free. I can pull away from Draco easily, but what next? I glance around to see if anyone has their wand, but everyone's has been confiscated – Crabbe still has mine.

Just then, I notice Neville's hand sneaking towards his pocket. Crabbe, who has been standing oblivious, watching the door, jolts as Neville accidently elbows him in the stomach. "What's that?"

"Nothing," says Neville. Crabbe tightens his grip on him and Neville's eyes bulge. "Oh all right, they're sweets. I was hungry."

All the members of the Inquisitorial Squad except Draco start to chuckle. "Give them here," says Goyle.

I blink as Neville pulls a handful of sweets from his pockets. I recognize them immediately – Fred and George's puking pastilles. This is the perfect escape; if anyone eats these, they won't be able to restrain us any longer.

All the captors reach in and take a sweet – again, except Draco. I turn around and realise that he is watching me. He knows something is wrong. He narrows his eyes at me, waiting, - but I can't tell him not to take a sweet, because that would foil Neville's plan. But then again, if everyone else had already had one...

I look Draco in the eyes and with the tiniest, most imperceptible movement, shake my head. And all at once, Draco shouts out, the captors burst out with horrid coughs and release Ron, Ginny, Luna and Neville, all who spring free and sprint towards the door. I give Draco a glance somewhere between apologetic and annoyed, and run after them.

"That was great, Neville!" Ron says as I catch up with them. Ginny laughs triumphantly. "Brilliant idea!"

Neville grins embarrassedly. "I used to carry puking pastilles around to get Crabbe and Goyle away from me. Clearly they haven't caught on yet."

"Where will they be?" I ask. "Harry and Hermione, where will we find them?"

"The forest, I think," says Ron. The din of loud voices and clatter of plates sounds from the Great Hall as we pass it, but I barely notice. "If I'm right, they'll have taken her to Grawp."

"That sounds right," says Ginny. Then she stops and turns to me. "Isobel, I don't think you should come."

"Wh-"

"I saw you with Malfoy," she says. Her voice is soft but her eyes seem hurt. "You shook your head, you told him the sweets were dangerous."

"Gin, you don't understand," I say angrily. "I specifically waited until everyone else had a pastille, I was hardly going to let him take one too-"

She shakes her head and turns away. "I'm sorry. But we clearly can't trust you."

I turn to Neville desperately. "Neville, tell her I wouldn't!"

He gives me a sad smile. Ron and Luna stare at the ground. "Sorry Iz," says Neville. "I'm not even sure Harry will let all of us come along. Maybe it's best if you just stay here."

Ginny has already started to walk away. With sheepish smiles, the rest turn slowly and follow her. I let out a yell of frustration and turn away, stomping up the stairs back to the common room. This is what being with Draco has done to me. One of my best friends could die tonight, and I won't even be able to try and help it.


	18. sixteen

_How do I make you come back to me?_

-

**_T H R E E M O N T H S L A T E R_ **

~

When I arrive at Platform 9 ¾, the place is buzzing with an exhilaration I haven't known in months. The scarlet train stands gleaming at the platform's centre, and excited chatter fills the chilly September air around it. People give their parents hasty, impatient hugs and stand on their tiptoes, desperately searching the crowd to find their friends. But I seek one sole person: Draco Malfoy.

Draco, who betrayed me by yelling out in Umbridge's office three months ago. Draco, whose father has now been locked up in Azkaban thanks to my friends. Draco, who hasn't replied to a single one of my letters all summer.

After scanning the entire platform for a white-blond head to no avail, I sigh and turn to my parents. I tug my bag closer over my shoulder. I'll have to find him later.

"Isobel," says my father, and from his tone I know instantly what he's going to say. "I'm just going to tell you one last time. Please stay away from the Malfoy boy. He's bad news, you know that."

I sigh. "So you've told me, Dad," I reply. I've managed not to mention that I haven't heard from Draco all summer. "But you've never actually met him, have you? Hey, at least I'm not dating Lucius."

My dad chuckles, but my mother's eyes widen. "That's not funny, Isobel."

"It's just a joke, Maggie," smiles my father. "Although," he adds to me, "if anything like that ever does happen, I pray you don't tell us."

I snort. "Don't worry about it." Without meaning to, my eyes flicker over to the swarm of people again. Where is he? "There's more to life than men, anyway."

"I'm very offended," says my dad, but his smile is wider than ever.

My mum zips up my bag where it has fallen open over my arm and checks my trunk. "Are you sure you've got everything?"

"I'm positive, Mum."

She checks the time, looking worried. It's normal for her to be stressed on days like these, but today she's taking it to a new level. I wonder if it's anything to do with Draco. "It's nearly eleven," she says. "You should get on the train."

I give her a hug. "I'll miss you guys. Love you."

"We'll miss you more," my dad says, as I hug him too. "The house is so quiet without you." Then he frowns. "On a serious note, Isobel. I really don't want you hanging around that boy this year, okay? It's your own choice and we can't stop you. We wouldn't want to stop you from doing anything, but-"

"But here you are," I say, stepping back, and my suddenly cold voice surprises me. "I'm old enough to take care of myself now Dad, but thanks for the relationship advice."

"Isobel-"

"Forget it," I say, turning away to hide the hurt in my eyes. "I'll see you guys at Christmas."

I hurry to the train before my parents can stop me and haul my trunk on board. The screams and hugs of other students around me makes me self-conscious as I set off down the corridor alone, but it only takes a few minutes before I find the compartment I'm looking for.

Behind the glass door sit Harry, Luna and Neville. After the whole Ministry thing, I know they don't like me much anymore, but I can't help having missed them. I offer them a small smile as I push open the door. "Hi."

"Isobel," says Harry, startling me by jumping out of his seat. "I'd like to speak to you. Do you mind?"

He ushers me into the corridor and I turn, confused. What could he want to speak to me about that can't be said before Luna and Neville?

"I wanted to talk to you about Malfoy," he says.

Oh. "What about?"

Harry narrows his eyes as if trying to read my expression. "Well, we saw him over the summer. He was acting weird."

"Well, his dad's in Azkaban so I expect he would."

"No, no." He pauses. "Like he was up to something. Isobel, if you know anything, you have to tell me. Whatever Malfoy has planned-"

"Well, he's not up to anything so I guess we're okay here."

Harry frowns. "Isobel, you know how important this is, right? How dangerous it could be? If Malfoy..." He breaks off, and I frown.

"What are you saying?"

Harry clearly doesn't believe that I'm being genuine because he grimaces and turns back to the compartment. "Whatever. Thanks for your time."

"But Harry, why are you asking? Why the sudden interest?"

He shakes his head. I raise my hands in utter confusion and groan aloud. Luna and Neville give me small smiles from inside the compartment. "Can I come in?" I ask pitiably.

Harry seems to fight with his thoughts for a moment before he replies. "Wouldn't you rather sit with Malfoy?"

I blink. "No, I actually wouldn't," I say slowly. "But I can take a hint. See you later."

I walk slowly away from the compartment, fighting back tears and rage. I want to go back there and yell at him, at them, for making it so hard to love Draco while loving them. I need them to understand my situation, to appreciate it, but how can I make them do so if I can't even sit beside them? I know the best thing to do, regarding everyone, is to kill them with kindness, but that is so difficult to do if kindness is never returned. And Draco, who is so wonderful, but so magnificent-

Right on queue, his voice sounds from the next train car. My head snaps up. Having been lost in my thoughts, I didn't even realise I was walking the whole way down the train to his compartment. I didn't plan on this; there are a million things I'd sooner do than walk into a compartment of bullies, but I've heard his voice now and there's no stopping me.

I've barely pushed open the door when the conversation hushes and everyone turns around to face me. I look straight at Draco, who is standing securely with a circle of his friends in the hall. He stares at me like he's never seen me before.

"Can we talk?"

My voice sounds weak and raspy. His friends poke each other and snigger. I glare at them, but Draco doesn't seem to notice. Eyes on mine, he opens his mouth and then closes it. He shakes his head and turns to go.

I catch his arm. "Hey," I say, offended. "Don't ignore me."

Draco folds his arms and as if on command, his friends back away until we are out of earshot.

"Fine," he says. This is his first word to me in months. "What do you want?"

Half of me expected him to act like this, but seeing it hurts all the same. "I'd like to talk," I say coolly. "As you didn't bother writing back to me for the entire holiday, I'd like to know how you are."

"I'm fine," he says stiffly. He has changed since I last saw him; he looks tense, and... Sad?

"Glad to hear it. How was your summer?"

"Terrible. In case you haven't heard, my father's stuck in Azkaban."

"I'm sorry" I say, and I mean it. "It must be hard for you."

Draco flinches, as if he is unaccustomed to this kind of conversation. His eyes leave mine for the first time and he looks out the window. Or at it. "Yeah, well."

"Is that it?" I ask. "I mean, is everything else okay? You seem a bit on edge." Without deciding, I know I won't tell him about Harry. Maybe another time, or maybe never. It doesn't seem right.

When I try to put my hand on his arm, he jerks it away. "Of course there's nothing else," he says roughly. "Have your dad thrown in Azkaban, see how you like it."

I frown. "I'm not sure if you're trying to say that this is my fault, but as I wasn't even involved in the Ministry incident-"

"That's not what I'm saying."

"Explain, then." I put my hands on my hips and glare at him. When he doesn't reply, I move closer and take his hand. I suppose we won't talk about his feelings. "My friends won't talk to me."

"Well, they're idiots," he says, gazing at his hand in mine. His voice is softer now.

"If only that was true."

Draco stares at me for a little, then finally pulls me closer to him, breathing out as he does so. "I missed you."

I wrap my arms around him. I have missed his warm touch, his steady breaths, this place in his arms where I feel safe and welcome. As the trees and fields and hills roll by, rain starts to trickle against the windows. The train moves onward, forward and forward until I am certain that we're in the middle of nowhere. But in his arms, with his pretty face above mine, I know I am home.


	19. seventeen

Most days, I wake up thinking of Draco. Probably too many days, and I worry now that I didn't spend enough time with my family over summer, while I was so busy worrying about him. But then, he's been acting even stranger than I expected him to. He seems to constantly be on edge, and constantly wary of those around him. One moment he's lovely, and the next he's grumpy, to the point that I wonder if the only thing wrong really is the awareness of his father locked up in Azkaban. Is there something more? Something he's not telling me? Azkaban is an awful, terrible place and I'm sure it's constantly unnerving to have a loved one there. But then, what's worse; having a father in Azkaban or having a father die?

"Belly?"

I start when I hear Draco's voice and blink out of my daze. I'm sitting alone at the Gryffindor table, staring blankly across the hall. It's November now, and getting chillier, but it might as well be September as this has been the case from the start. Me, alone and lonely whenever Draco's not with me. I don't know what time it is now, but I've been sitting here since breakfast, clutching the same letter in my hands. I've looked through it a million times, trying to read between the lines for some kind of loophole, some way out, but I can't find anything. It's a tiny paper ball now, weak in my fist from having been furiously crumpled and un-crumpled so many times.

"Isobel," Hermione had said tentatively that morning, staring at the newspaper she was reading. I'd looked up, startled. We don't speak much these days, Hermione and I, not even simple questions across the breakfast table. But something in her tone told me this was important. "What's your father's name again?"

"Richard, why?"

Hermione paled and pushed the newspaper over to me. As she pointed to a small, almost hidden column, I swore I saw her hand tremble. "Maybe you should read this."

Confused, I had picked up the newspaper and started reading. And in moments, I felt like a part of me had died inside.

My father had been in an attack, and was in what they deemed as 'critical condition'. Everyone else had gotten away with mild injuries, but he had fallen hard and sustained injuries detrimental even in the wizarding world. They didn't know if he'd be okay. From what I could tell, either they didn't know a lot of things, or it was too dangerous to specify. It had been somewhere in the muggle community. They didn't specify. The article was so hidden away, so brief and vague, that the entire thing was so shady that it only pointed to one thing: the article seemed to indicate that the men had been injured in one of the many attempts to attack muggles.

Only minutes later, I received a letter from my mother.

_Isobel,_

_Your father has been involved in an attack. We're not sure of the circumstances._

_He's lost a lot of blood and there's not much time. I'm so sorry to tell you this way._

_I love you very much and so does he._

_Love,_

_Mum_

But it didn't make sense. My father would never, ever want to attack muggles or associate with Death Eaters in any way. He was a good man – possibly the best I knew. But maybe... Maybe I just didn't know him like I thought I did.

"Draco Malfoy at the Gryffindor table," I say now, staring at the letter in my fist. My voice comes out croaky. "I never thought I'd see the day."

Draco sits down beside me, one leg on either side of the bench so that he's facing me. "What's wrong?"

I push the letter to him and stay silent, watching his eyebrows furrow in the long moments that he reads it.

He looks up at me slowly, his eyes pained. "I'm sure he'll be better soon, Belly," he says softly.

"I don't know," I reply, staring at the table. "It was in the Daily Prophet too. The tiniest article, but... I don't know. I've got a bad feeling about it."

"Don't think like that, Belly. You can't think like that." I don't reply. "Are you going to go see him?"

I shake my head slowly. "You can't visit patients in the emergency ward." Draco looks at me pitifully, the letter still in his hand. I know his situation; what do you say to someone in pain when you can't see any hope for them? "The article described it as 'critical condition'," I say, my voice trembling. "In the wizarding world, they don't say those words unless they really have no solution. Do you think he's going to die, Draco?"

"Are you Isobel Young?"

I look up to see a girl who can't be much older than twelve standing in front of us. She may not know who I am, but she definitely recognizes Draco and seems terrified. My eyes drop to the note in her hand. "Yeah."

"Um, Professor McGonagall would like to see you," she says, and she sounds almost apologetic. "She says it's urgent."

I turn to Draco, my eyes wide. His face is pale. "No," I whisper.

He grasps my hand. "You don't know what it's about," he says. "It could be homework, or – or anything." I shake my head, tears springing to my eyes. "Belly, look at me," Draco says pleadingly. "You're going to be alright, okay? It's going to be fine."

"It's not going to be fine."

Draco squeezes my hand again. "I'll go with you. Whenever you're ready."

After minutes, or maybe hours, I stand up. He stands with me and we walk slowly. His eyes are on mine, afraid, not even watching where he's going. When we reach McGonagall's office, he kisses my cheek. "Be brave, Gryffindor."

But before I have even entered the room, I know.

McGonagall wears a grim expression as she beckons me in. "I think you should sit down, Miss Young."

I stay standing. "Is this about my dad?" My voice is unrecognisable.

McGonagall comes around her desk, closer to me. "Yes." She pauses. "I presume you've heard about the attack?" I nod, slowly, willing her to go on but simultaneously not wanting her to say anything at all. Lips pursed, McGonagall picks up a small piece of parchment. "I've just received this. I'm really sorry, Young. Your father passed away a little over an hour ago. He-"

My head spins. Barely aware of what's going on, and unaware if I'm even still breathing, I pull the door open and sprint out of it, McGonagall's voice still sounding behind me. My dad is dead. He's dead and he's never coming back. I'll never see him again, or hear his laugh-

I collapse into Draco's chest, tears flooding from my eyes. "He's gone," I sob, my voice muffled by his shirt. "He's gone, he's really gone." Draco holds me tight, wordless, stroking my hair and letting me mourn. I feel numb, broken. I cling onto Draco like he's the only material thing in the world. His shirt must be soaking by now. I've never cried in front of him, but he holds me tighter than ever before, my home.

And then I pull away from him.

"The last time I saw him, we had a fight."

"Belly, that doesn't matter, okay? Don't think about that."

"We were fighting over you." Draco hesitates, and I push myself away from him. "Is this what your life is like? People – just – dying all the time? Attacks? Futile attacks, people's lives considered worthless?"

Draco's face is even paler than usual. Even more tired. "Belly, don't-"

" _Your_ people did this," I snarl, pushing at his chest. "Your people, he was with _them_. This kind of thing happens all the time, and yet you just keep living with it as if everything's perfect."

"That's not true!"

"Prove me wrong then!" I'm nearly shouting now. "When have you ever gone against what they say? Tried to defy them? You might as well be one of them, a, a-" I don't say the words, but I don't have to. He looks hurt like I've never seen him before, but I don't care. "I'm going home," I sniff, stalking away from him. "I don't know when I'll be back."

"I love you."

I freeze. He's never said that to me; has avoided the 'L' word like an allergen; has refrained from mentioning anything to do with it. I force myself onward, ignoring the scream of every bone in my body; _I love you too_ ; wishing I couldn't hear - or imagine - his voice still sounding behind me.

"I love you. I love you, Belly. I love you."


	20. eighteen

  
  
  
_November 22nd_

_Draco,_

_Got home safe. Mum is in bits._

_Belly_   
  
  


**-**   
  
  


_1st of December_

_Dear Draco,_

_We're a strong family, but this really hit us hard. I don't get it; I don't get death. Dad was always the toughest guy I knew; my hero since forever. He was so good, and so strong; resilient to anything and everything. And now he's just gone. Defeated._

_But... They confirmed what happened in the attack. You know, that it involved Muggles. It's awful, but I feel kind of numb about it. I think I'm in denial._

_Most people are being very kind – bringing over meals for us and that – but they don't stay long. They're too scared for themselves._

_Mum cries a lot._

_I'm sorry for yelling that day. It was such a panicky, surreal moment; the worst of my entire life. I was upset and confused and in shock, and I took it out on you when you were just trying to comfort me. I'm so sorry._

_But I've been thinking. I miss you so much, but I can't see how things will ever work out if life goes on like this; the two of us standing at either end of a war. As much as I try, I can't see a happy ending._

_Please convince me otherwise._

_By the way, I love you too._

_Belly_   
  
  


**-**   
  
  


_25th of December_

_Dear Draco,_

_Happy Christmas!_

_Well, not really happy here, if I'm honest. Mum and I are trying our best, but it's so hard not to compare it to every other Christmas we've had. It's just not the same without Dad._

_I didn't mean what I said in the last letter, about things not working out between us. Well, I did, but I miss you so much that I've decided it doesn't matter. This is such a hard time for me and my mum that it almost doesn't feel real, and I've been saying and thinking a lot of things that I shouldn't._

_How are things with you?_

_I love you,_

_Belly_   
  
  


**-**   
  
  


_January 20th_

_Dear Draco,_

_You're not writing back so I don't know how much you've heard, but I probably won't be coming back to school for another while. I don't know for how long._

_I'm staying with mum to help out around the house, but also so we can figure out the money situation, now that Dad's gone. He held the main source of income for the family, obviously, having worked for the Ministry and all. I'm helping Mum with her perfume business as well at the moment, and she claims it makes a difference. Anyway, I'm technically practicing potions, and although I'm still terrible at it, I reckon Slughorn would be proud._

_Mostly though, I need to stay with Mum. If I come back to Hogwarts, she'll be all alone. I think it might just be good for the two of us to stay here together for a while; these kind of things are more important than education._

_It's been really hard._

_I hope you're okay._

_Love, Belly_   
  
  


**-**   
  
  


_5th of March_

_Draco,_

_Mum's been happier lately. We went shopping together today – the first time we've left the house in ages – and we had a really good time. I think things might finally be looking up for us._

_I've heard about some of the things going on at Hogwarts – apparently Katie Bell AND Ron have both been attacked? What's going on?_

_I've been going over some of the work at home, the stuff you're doing in school right now. I wish I was there so we could complain about it together!_

_Love, Isobel_   
  
  


**-**   
  
  


_April 1st_

_Draco,_

_Is it because of the sides we're on? Is that why you're not writing back?_

_Because all I want is peace, Draco._

_I'm probably being annoying, and I'm sorry. But if you're letting me go, you have to tell me. You can't just ignore me, please._

_Love, Isobel_   
  
  


**-**   
  
  


_April 22nd_

_Draco,_

_You know, it really isn't hard to scribble down a one-word answer and send it to me. I just want to know, ARE YOU OKAY?_

_I hate to remind you, but apart from my mother, you're my only real friend these days. I've been stuck here for months, with only my mother to talk to, and I barely know a single thing of what's going on back at Hogwarts. It's really frustrating._

_Just in case you wanted to know, I'm great. Still mourning my dead dad, but whatever._

_Isobel_   
  
  


**-**   
  
  


_13th of May_

_Draco,_

_Well, I wrote to Hermione. I know they all still can't get over us dating, but guess what? It seems even someone who hates me can write back to me faster than you can. (I'm annoyed at you, if you can't tell)._

_Hermione says it's not up to her to tell me about your life, and she's right. Please, just write something back. Tell me I'm overreacting._

_Isobel_   
  
  


**-**   
  
  


_June 5th_

_Happy birthday, Draco._

_I hope you have a good day._ _Remember this day last year? Blissful ignorance, right?_

_I still don't know where we stand or what's happening._

_Isobel_   
  
  


**-**   
  
  


_30th of June_

_Draco,_

_I'm coming back._


	21. nineteen

**_J U N E 3 0 T H_ **

~

When I arrive back at Hogwarts, something is wrong. I haven't been here in months, and I stand momentarily transfixed, staring around the vast entrance hall. I've forgotten how wonderful it is, how grand and magical, and my heart thuds with the exhilaration of seeing it again. But it's different.

I don't have any bags with me; I'm not here to stay. I want to go say hello to my old friends, even if they don't like me anymore, and I have to find Draco. But I'm here to see Professor McGonagall about my subjects and options after having missed a year, so I decide it's best to get that over with first.

But as I venture up the great staircase, I can't shake the feeling that something isn't quite right. The castle is eerily still. There's no-one around, and even the characters in the paintings are strangely quiet. I don't want to voice my concerns because I don't want to worry over nothing, but it's all very unsettling.

"Isobel?"

Hermione voice echoes unnaturally in the silence, startling me. She jumps the last few steps of the staircase and hurries over to me, her eyes wide. "Oh, hey," I say, smiling sheepishly.

She stares at me. "Why are you here?"

"To- to sort out some stuff," I say feebly. "Um, how's the year been?"

Hermione is frantically shaking her head. "Isobel, you need to go," she says. "You can come back to – to do whatever another time, but right now you – you need to get out of here. Right away. Go, please go."

I frown. "Why?"

"I'm not sure," Hermione says desperately. "Harry burst into the common room earlier and us to split his Liquid Luck between us – Ron and Ginny and I – and I don't know, he was freaking out, Isobel, and, well, Malfoy was mentioned too-"

"What?" I interrupt quickly.

"I don't know, I really – I don't know how much I'm allowed to tell you or how much I really even know or understand myself but I've just lost Luna and we were meant to be watching Snape together and-"

"Snape? Why Snape?"

"Hermione? Isobel?"

Luna steps serenely down and out of the staircase, her composure contrasting hugely to Hermione's distress. "Hey Luna," I say, wishing I could offer more than my hurried smile I shoot her, but Hermione has completely thrown me. "Hermione," I say slowly. "Please calm down for just a second-"

"Don't tell me to calm down!" says Hermione furiously. "You need to leave here, it's not safe. Luna, we need to find the others, and quickly."

"I'm not leaving," I retort, and I can't help but match her tone. "Let me come with you."

"Of course you can come", says Luna kindly. I smile gratefully.

Hermione looks like she's about to say something but bites her lip, thinking the better of it. Luna and I follow her wordlessly down the empty corridor.

I'm still unsure what exactly we're looking for, or who we need to talk to, but we don't have to travel far to find out. Once we've turned about three corners, we hear shouting. And it sounds horrific.

The scene dazes me. Once we turn the corner, at least fifty people are visible, filling the Astronomy wing, terrifyingly colourful spells whizzing in every direction. People are all over the place, screaming, yelling, some even laughing derisively; shooting to kill. They are fighting. Real fighting, in Hogwarts. That could only happen if...

And then I see them. The masks, black and scary, and unmistakable. There are Death Eaters in Hogwarts.

I don't know how long I've been standing there, staring at the battle raging in front of me, when a head of wild red hair catches my eye. I grab Ginny's arm and pull her aside, to the wall where we're safe. "What's happening?" I ask. "How did they get in? Are you alright?"

Ginny, like Hermione, stares at me. I remember the last time we properly spoke; the anger and resentment in her eyes as she told me I couldn't help anymore. But there's no anger in her voice as she tells me, "Isobel, please get out of here. People know you, and they're angry; they'll hurt you."

This is what Hermione told me, but I still don't understand. I shake my head. "Do you know where Draco is? Or Harry?"

"I don't know where Malfoy is," says Ginny, speaking quickly. We edge along the wall behind people so that we remain unseen. At the end of the room, something crashes and someone screams so loud that their voice drowns out everyone else's, but I don't dare look. "And the last place Harry was seen was in the common room. He ran out, but no one knows where he went. Isobel-"

"Will you tell me what's going on with Draco?"

"I don't know, Isobel, I'm really sorry," says Ginny sincerely. "Harry didn't explain much to Ron and Hermione and they didn't explain much to me. I really hope your year's been okay and I wish we could talk more but- watch out!" She shoves me out of the way as a curse comes flying at us. It hits the wall between us.

"Thanks," I say breathlessly.

"I have to go," says Ginny, glaring around for whoever shot the curse at us. "Please stay safe."

"Do you know where Draco is?"

"No, but don't go looking for him," she says, turning back to me with a serious look. "If you can't get home then go to the common room, okay?" She startles me by pulling me into a sudden hug.

"But _why_?" I ask, looking wildly around for him. "What's he done?"

Before Ginny can answer, I have spotted him. He's near the corner of the room, fighting through the crowd to get to the spiral staircase that leads to the Astronomy Tower.

I have crossed the room within seconds, barely aware of the people bumping against me, fighting, of the spells zooming past my ears; of the ceiling that has caved in at the centre of the room. All that matters is that I can reach him; that I can finally know him again.

When Draco's eyes lock onto mine, a thousand emotions seem to flood through his face. He grabs my elbow and pulls me into a corner, but he moves slowly, as if he's in a daze. "Belly?"

His voice still rings in my head: _I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you._ The last words he spoke to me. I want to hug him, kiss him, touch him, speak with him. But I'm so confused, and I stay rooted to the spot. "What on earth is going on?"

Draco shakes his head. He's acting just like Ginny and Hermione did, but more... Shameful? Guilty? I can't tell. My heart is pounding by now, my hands are shaking, and he's not doing anything to make it any better. "Go," he says softly. "Get out of here."

A spell whizzes past us, just missing Draco's ear, but he doesn't seem to notice. I push him around the corner, out of sight of everyone else. "What's happened in here?"

"You shouldn't be here," he croaks, looking tearful. "Why are you here, Belly?"

I fold my arms, taking him in for long moments. Finally, I say, "Is something wrong with your hands?"

He blinks. "What?"

"You haven't been replying to my letters. Why not?"

Draco looks as though he's about to faint. He's deathly pale. So much so, I suddenly realise, that he almost looks ill. His face is miserable, gaunt-like, and he's thin. Too thin. "I - I haven't had time".

"That's rubbish," I say coldly. "I haven't had much time either, but it hasn't stopped me sparing five minutes a month to send you a quick update. You know, let you know that I'm not dead and that."

"I'm sorry."

"That's not good enough."

 **"** Listen Belly, I've had a really rough year and-"

" _You've_ had a rough year?" I interrupt, shoving his chest. "Pardon me if I'm wrong, but wasn't _I_ the one stranded at home without a word of news from anyone, comforting my depressed mother all day, stuck in the same place that I've always associated with my dead dad and so been totally unable to escape the pain of losing him?" Tears glisten in my eyes. "And then you-" I shove him again- "to hear absolutely nothing from you, not a word to let me know if you're dead or alive and if you hate me or love me-" I pause. Looking like he's about to break, Draco turns his head away from me. "For six months, Draco," I say quietly. "That's been the story for six months, like I've been living the same day over and over again. And then I come here, and you tell me that _you've_ had a rough year?" I glare at him. "My heart bleeds for you."

Draco keeps his eyes on the floor. It's as if the fight behind us isn't even happening. "You don't know what's been happening, Belly. If you knew, I'm sure you would understand." His voice is croaky, like he's about to cry. "I know you would. But you can't... You can't be here, Belly. It's not safe for you."

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" I ask angrily. "Why can't someone just tell me what's going on?"

Shaking his head, Draco turns his back to me. I notice his shirt is untucked and half of his buttons are undone. His hair is messy, his cloak torn. He seems... Broken. This is not the Draco I know. "I need to go," he says softly. "And you need to stay away from me."

" _What_? Stay away from you? Why would I ever- Draco, what's going on?"

He starts to move away from me. "Just take my word for it."

"I won't take your word for it Draco, I need you to tell me what is happening. This is all so stupid-"

"I can't, Belly. I have to go."

I try to swallow the lump in my throat. It doesn't work. I reach out, slowly, and touch his hand. "Do you still love me?" I whisper.

Draco's head snaps up. "Of course I still love you, Belly. Of course I love you, you're the best thing that ever happened to me." He's finally looking at me, and I can see bags beneath his eyes. He squeezes them shut. "I just... I can't deal with losing you."

I furrow my eyebrows. "Losing me?"

Draco stares at me for what feels like hours, as if he's trying to hold onto the moment. Then he sighs. "You're not going to love me anymore after tonight. I- I've done something bad, Belly. And it's about to get worse."

"But _what_ have you done, Draco?"

He shakes his head, still gazing at me intensely, taking me in. "Stay here," he says. "Don't go back there, please. I'll be down soon."

I grab his hand, still not understanding, but I can't find any words to say other than; "I love you too."

From the look in his eyes, I think I may have broken his heart. He squeezes my hand, and suddenly, even though he is standing right in front of me, I miss him more than ever. "Don't follow me," he whispers.

And then, he is gone.


	22. twenty

I drop to my knees and put my head in my hands.

After more than six months of silence, this is a lot, and I don't know what to do about it. Minutes pass, long minutes of restraining myself from running out; from betraying Draco and going to help my friends instead of protecting my own safety. It's selfish, but I can't stop their voices from echoing around my head; persistent commands of staying safe, because apparently, I am in more danger than most other people here.

But before I know it, he is back, being dragged by Snape down the spiral staircase and out the far end of the corridor, unnoticed by everyone else. Either Draco doesn't see me or doesn't want to look at me, but he doesn't meet my eyes.

Unable to contain myself any longer, I get up and sprint after them. I have waited too long for this moment. I refuse to remain so confused and excluded.

I can't see the Death Eaters in front of me, but I can hear them; shrieking and happy and horrid. "Not that way!" screams one of them, and I skid behind a corner to hide, hearing them stop in their tracks. "It's been blocked off; go out the front gates and Apparate to the Manor!"

After moments, there is an enormous crash, and the voices begin to fade. I take a deep breath and begin to run again, around the corner, across the landing and into the Entrance Hall. In front of me, the huge front doors have been blown apart, and students who have woken up from all the commotion stand at either side looking terrified. They stare at me as I sprint out the door, barely noticing the cold air on my throat, or the grounds flying past me as I run, or the flames – behind me, something else has been blown apart. All that I can think of is getting to Draco.

Once I reach the gate myself, I freeze in my tracks. This is a risk; massively so. To willingly send myself to a place I know is filled with Death Eaters is even more dangerous than staying here at Hogwarts; a place now littered with destruction.

But I take a breath, and remind myself why I am in Gryffindor. Because despite being scared and sad, and wanting the world to stop taking everything I love and turning it into a chaotic mess, and despite being so shaken by the obstacles that life throws at me that I always just want to curl up and cry; I am brave. I am in Gryffindor because I am brave, and value bravery over anything else.

I don't feel very brave right now.

So, I pluck up every bit of courage I can find, not because I am brave enough to do so, but because I know I can. I know that the Draco I love is still there, somewhere inside the broken boy I witnessed today.

And with the last amount of energy I can muster, I twist, and Disapparate.

When I open my eyes, I'm standing in a wide driveway, facing a huge door. It's the middle of the night now, and frighteningly silent in comparison to the chaos of only moments before. My breath sounds loud and clear into the darkness, drowning out the only other sound of water rushing faintly in a nearby fountain. It's dark, and I am surrounded by dark stone walls and impending doom. The enormous Malfoy Manor looms over me, dark and terrifying.

I knock hard on the door, three short raps that make me sound a lot bolder than I feel. The door opens, no more than an inch, and I quickly fold my arms so that whoever's behind it can't see that they are trembling.

A small eye peers out at me, a man's eye; someone who is clearly much shorter than me. "Who are you?"

I realise I didn't quite think this part through. "I – ahem. I'm here to see Draco Malfoy."

The door pushes wider open as he realises I'm no threat. The short, stout man looks up at me and raises an eyebrow. "Name?"

I pause. If I give my name, he is sure to recognise me and never let me in. "I'm here to see Draco Malfoy," I repeat, realizing as I say it that this is a pretty useless statement in the face of a war. But then, in just the right moment, I spot Draco behind him, trudging towards an enormous staircase. "Draco Malfoy" I repeat, hardly able to believe my luck. Draco spins around in disbelief. "Oh look, there he is," I say hastily to the man, who narrows his eyes.

Draco rushes toward the door. "Yes, she's with me," he says, his eyes fixed on mine. Before the man can do anything, he grabs my arm and pulls me in. He walks quickly and I stumble behind him.

He takes my hand in his and leads me firmly away from the short man, down the vast hallway and up a wide set of marble stairs. Once we are far enough away, he pulls me close enough to say, "What are you doing here?"

I melt a little under Draco's touch, having missed it for so long. But I can't stop staring at him, noticing more and more how much he's changed since I last saw him. He is thinner, yes, but in this light I can also see that he hasn't slept in a very long time. I want to comfort him, and I want him to comfort me back.


	23. twenty-one

"You're so stupid," Draco mumbles. We reach the end of the stairs and take a left. "You shouldn't have come here, you're so stupid."

By the time we reach his room, I am very scared. He quietly shuts the door. His room is dark, like I thought it might be, but even bigger and fancier. A velvet chaise lounge and writing desk stand on the opposite side. A king-sized bed in the centre of the room faces a massive window, which would have filled the room with light, had it been daytime. Instead it reflects a starless, black night, filled with gloom and uncertainty.

"Dra-"

Before I can address him properly, Draco has spun me around and kissed me hard on the mouth. It has been long months since I last felt his touch, months I spent craving his sound and feel and smell, and it takes all of me to push him away. "I missed you," he repeats. He sounds like he might cry. "Oh Belly, I missed you so much."

"I miss you too, but-"

"Missed," he interrupts. "You missed me. The missing's over now, right?"

"Draco, what-" I slap his hands away and reluctantly walk over to sit on his bed. "You won't come near me until you tell me what's going on."

"I can't tell you," he says, ignoring my instructions and sitting down beside me. Suddenly, his face crumples. I am even more frightened. "I can't," he repeats. "If I tell you, you'll hate me, and I can't, I can't-"

"Shh." I take him into my arms and stroke his hair, wondering what could possibly be so bad. This is a side of Draco Malfoy I've never seen before, and it frightens me more than anything else I have seen tonight.

Long minutes pass by. "I didn't reply to any of your letters," he sniffs.

"Yes, I noticed."

"This year, I've been... busy... But not with school work. I... I've been fixing a vanishing cabinet."

"A vanishing cabinet?"

"It's... A kind of transport system. Not many people know about them."

"Okay," I say, struggling to understand how this could be so dreadful. Draco sits up, suddenly, and walks towards the window. I follow him. We are in the early hours of the morning by now, and in the minutes that I've been here, a sliver of sun has started to peak out over the edge of a horizon that runs smooth for miles. The land clearly doesn't belong to the Malfoys, as I can just about make out overgrown grass and wild flowers, all over the vacant fields.

But Draco isn't looking at the view. "I used to play there every day as a child," he says as I admire it. "While my parents were inside talking business, I would go out alone for hours on end. I still go out there, to escape everything. It's like a whole other world. So private, yet so free. Sometimes I wish all life could be like that." His eyes are on mine, unwavering, but is voice is gentle, sad. "The right of the house looks out over the garden and the left looks out over the woods. You know how you can think things, without really realising you even think them? I chose the left, but I never thought much of it. I only realise now that I've always liked the idea of being free." I can hear the waver in Draco's voice; can see the child in his broken eyes. His hand touches my cheek, but he doesn't seem to notice.

It takes all my effort to shrug it off. "Don't," I say quietly, avoiding his eyes. "Draco, you need to tell me what's going on. What happened tonight?"

Draco stares at the ground. "I don't think I can."

As gently as I can, I say, "Tell me about the vanishing cabinet."

He inhales, slowly. "There's one in the Room of Requirement. I found out about it last year."

"Okay," I say patiently. "And it's a kind of transport system, right?"

He nods slowly. "You put something in one, it comes out in another. It works with people too. You can get anyone into Hogwarts by using it. Even people who really aren't allowed to be there." He stares at the ground, his face stony, avoiding my eyes at all costs. "Belly, I've been using the Vanishing Cabinet to get Death Eaters into Hogwarts."

My heart begins to thud in my chest. "What?" He looks at me desperately, his eyes on mine, but I can't- "You were the one who- Why?"

"To- to-"

"W _hy_ , Draco?"

"To kill Dumbledore."

I freeze. This is why he looked so terrified at the bottom of the tower, this is why everyone urged me to go home, _this_ is why I should have been far more scared than I actually was. "You-" I say breathlessly. I can't even look at him. "You let Death Eaters into Hogwarts to kill Dumbledore?"

Draco is silent for a long time, and it forces me to look up at him. Then he says, quietly; "No, Belly. I had to kill Dumbledore." I stumble backwards and Draco clutches at my jacket. "But I didn't," he says urgently. "I didn't kill him, Belly, Snape did, I-"

"Dumbledore's dead?" I say softly. He doesn't reply. "You wouldn't have done it, would you? You wouldn't have killed him, Draco, tell me you wouldn't-" Again, Draco doesn't reply. He watches me sorrowfully and a million thoughts swirl in my head. I step back again. "But why you?"

"Please don't hate me."

I stare at him. "Why you, Draco?"

"Be- Because I'm a Death Eater."

In that moment, everything hits me. I back away from him, tears welling up in my eyes. "They were right," I whisper. "My friends – everyone – they were all right, all along. You're dangerous. It's dangerous to be with you, to be here-" I stop in my tracks and look frantically around the room. I am shaking now, and as Draco steps closer to me, the walls seem to close in.

"Belly, please-"

"How do I get out?"

"I'll take you home Belly, please listen-"

"No!" I have backed into a corner now, as far away from him as I can get. "I don't want – you – don't touch me. I don't belong here, with you, I can't be here-"

Tears glisten in Draco's eyes. "Don't leave me-"

"I shouldn't be with you in the first place!" I yell, my voice breaking. This is wrong, so wrong. A _Death Eater_ \- the people who killed my father - "Not now, not ever, Draco – I – I should never have loved you!"

He freezes on the spot. I push away the pang in my heart when I remember I've never said the words out loud before. I've never told him I love him. "You don't mean that," Draco says, his face pale. "Belly, tell me you don't mean that-"

"That's why you didn't write back to me, I suppose?" I say angrily. I avert my eyes to the door, to the bed - anywhere but him. "Too busy being a Death Eater?"

"No," Draco interrupts, his tone bordering on offended. "I didn't want to get you in danger! I knew it was unsafe for you to be with me-"

"How gallant-"

"So I figured it would be easier if you hated me. I was meant to do it from September, but when I saw you on the train that day, I couldn't bring myself to ignore you. When- when your dad died and you left, it was easier-"

"That's great," I say. I feel broken. "So it was actually quite convenient for you, was it then? That my dad died."

"Belly, no," Draco steps forward and tries to take my hand but I wrench it back. "Belly, that's not what I meant, please-"

I can't stand this. I turn around so that I can't see him anymore. I don't want to look at him. "I have to leave", I say. "I think it's better for the both of us like this."


	24. twenty-two

_It's hard to explain, and I'm not sure I will ever be able to. But a world without you is a world I don't want to live in; a world I don't even want to imagine._

_-_

**_F O U R M O N T H S L A T E R_ **

~

The last time I spoke to Draco Malfoy, I was a hysteric, enamoured disaster. Now I barely know him.

Hogwarts has changed more than I could ever have imagined. The school in front of me now is magnificent as ever, but unrecognisable from the safe and happy environment I knew when I first came here.

The sky is grey and November rain pounds upon the dorm windows. I lie on my bed, staring at the ceiling of a broken Hogwarts. Hermione's bed is empty beside mine, her sheets untouched since June. A tiny, horrid, daily reminder of what my life used to be.

I've been trying to get Ginny to move in here. I love and miss Hermione but can't see her coming back anytime soon and don't see any point in Ginny and I sleeping in separate rooms when there's a vacant bed right here. Ginny is the opposite; she clings to the hope of seeing Harry, Ron and Hermione again. I catch her staring out the window sometimes, as if hoping she'll catch a glimpse of them trudging back through the stone gates and straight to the Gryffindor common room. As if that's what's going to fix this whole mess. It's almost like that is what inspires all of her energy; like she is living off the possibility of the three's return.

I wrench myself off the bed and dress slowly. Every day I lose a little more motivation to pull on my uniform. I don't see the point of doing anything anymore, and being alone makes everything worse.

Ginny says that if it's so important to me to live in the same dorm as her, I should have repeated sixth year like my mother wanted me to. But every moment that I spend in this school is increasingly torturous and I want nothing more than to leave. Hogwarts isn't the Hogwarts that it used to be.

Once I've made my way down to the common room, I find the other three – Ginny, Neville and Luna – already sitting there, huddled near the fire. We spend more time here than ever before this year, so we let Luna in on the passwords and sneak her in whenever we can – which, with the Carrows constantly on our tails, isn't very often.

"Isobel, you're here," says Ginny warmly as I sit down beside them. "There's something I've been meaning to discuss with you lot."

I hum and slowly wrap a blanket around myself. Ginny's been coming up with dozens of irrational plans lately, from fleeing the school to poisoning Snape, and by this stage it all seems like wishful thinking. Sure, we rebel against the Carrows as much as we can - from silly practical jokes to promotional DA graffiti - but there is a line that we respect in favour of not getting ourselves killed. Sometimes, and in different ways, Ginny and Neville seem to forget this.

I reach over to Neville, who is holding a large bowl of dry cornflakes. "Can I have some?"

As he nods, a fresh scar above his eyebrow glistens in the light of the fire. "Snuck it from the table yesterday," he says. "I'm sure the house elves have noticed everyone's sneaking food by now but well, they're on our side."

I raise my eyebrows in a lazy response, digging in to the cornflakes with my bare hands. "How'd you get that scar, Nev?"

"It's nothing," he says dismissively. "One of the Carrows was beating up a first year yesterday. Had to step in."

I sigh, trying to turn my morning brain into gear. "You're going to get yourself killed, Neville."

"I think it's bloody brilliant," says Ginny defensively. "Someone has to stick up to them."

Neville nods. "And if other people see us sticking up, they'll be encouraged to do the same."

"Right, and you know I stick up to them too, but sometimes you take it just a bit too far-" I pause when I see Neville adamantly shaking his head.

"You didn't see it. You'd have done the same."

I hand him back his cornflakes. "Whatever," I reply grumpily.

"So anyway," says Ginny casually. "I was thinking we should take back the Gryffindor sword."

Neville chokes on his cornflakes and Luna pats his back. I stare incredulously at Ginny. We discovered only recently that the sword of Gryffindor – which Dumbledore left to Harry – is in Snape's office, nicely displayed on his wall. The sword isn't Snape's to keep, but stealing it would be dangerous, to say the least.

"You're joking, right?" I ask. "That's crazy."

"We could do it," says Ginny confidently. "With all four of us, if we waited until the right moment-"

"Oh, and when's that? Snape is in his office all the time, I highly doubt we could ever-"

"Dumbledore's office," Ginny corrects me. "Isobel, think about it. If we're sensible about this, we'll just find a time that we know nobody's around, including Snape, like an assembly or something."

Neville nods enthusiastically. "And if the whole school knew that the sword was taken from Snape, it would be really be a step forward with the whole, you know." He motions with his hands. "Revolution."

"And what will his reaction be when he finds out the sword's been stolen?"

"It's not stealing," says Ginny angrily. "It's rightfully Harry's sword, we're just taking it back!"

"Shh," says Neville quietly. "People are looking."

"They're right," says Luna serenely. "It's better than doing nothing."

"We're not doing nothing," I groan. "We've still got the DA going, we've pulled the Carrow's heads out of their asses-"

"Fine," chirps Ginny. She scoops up a handful of cornflakes. "You don't have to come then. Three of us is plenty."

I glare at the floor. "Don't be stupid."

"I'm not."

I put my head in my hands and close my eyes. "Okay. Okay, fine. We'll do it."

Ginny grins triumphantly. "Great," she says. "If we manage to find a pattern in when Snape goes to meals, we can do it by the end of the week."

"Great," I reply. "Well, Snape never goes to meals, so-"

"I think we should break into the office while he leaves," continues Ginny as if I haven't spoken. "I'll go to dinner to check he hasn't arrived yet, so we're not stuck outside the office waiting for him to leave when he's already gone."

"I think he goes to the start of meals," chimes in Luna. "Probably just to show his face."

Neville nods. "Make sure we don't think he's plotting ways to kill us all, in all that time he's locked up in Dumbledore's office."

"Another one of us can go scope the place out. You know, wait until we're sure no one's sneaking around, like Crabbe and Goyle or Malfoy or someone."

At the word "Malfoy," Ginny automatically catches my eye. I wrinkle my nose and look pointedly away. I think she believes I still have feelings for Draco, and it's very annoying. She never mentions him, but I know she wants to. "I'll do that," I say, in as casual a tone as I can muster.

"Okay," says Ginny. She stares at the fire so I can't catch her expression. "Um. Luna and Neville, if you guys can wait by the Gryffindor common room and make sure it's as empty as you can make it, so that it's not crowded with witnesses when we get back."

"Sounds like a plan," says Neville. A thirst for rebellion sparkles dangerously in his eyes in the fire light. "Our first heist. Isn't that exciting?"


	25. twenty-three

"He's late."

"Shhh." Ginny's brown eyes lock onto mine, her cheek flat against the wall beside me. Her every move urges me to stop worrying, even though I know she has uncertainties of her own.

We had been closely observing Snape's mealtime patterns for the last few days so that we could know when to sneak into his office to steal the sword. Luna was right: he seemed to show up for the start of every meal, then leave unnoticed once everyone had settled in. The first few minutes of dinner is our gap, our go-time. But we're outside his office now, and he is late, and I have an unsettling feeling that we'll be caught.

We wait a couple minutes longer in the silence before I whisper, "This is ridiculous. He's never going to come out, and someone's going to walk past and see us-"

And then, the gargoyle we are standing beside begins to move, drowning out my words with the loud sound of grinding stone. The rotating spiral staircase that leads to the office is revealed behind it, and before we can even hesitate, Ginny has darted into the side of it, and we have no choice but to follow. On the other side of the staircase, I can just make out the swish of Snape's jet black robes.

When the gargoyle is back in place, the silence that surrounds us on the spiral staircase is overwhelming. "We made it," I breathe, my heart beating with exhilaration.

Ginny grins triumphantly at the oak door that leads to Snape's office. "All that's left is the sword," she says. "Easy."

"I don't know," I say. "It still feels like something's wrong."

"It does feel off," admits Neville. "He hasn't been late this entire week."

"Maybe he isn't going to dinner," says Luna.

"Should we still-"

"Yes," says Ginny. Her eyes are still on the door. "Yes, we're doing it. We're in now, we may as well try. And if we get expelled, well, we all hate the school anyway."

"And when Snape sees it's gone-"

"As long as Snape can't prove we took the sword, we'll be okay. We just need to get out before he's back. It's fine."

"Okay," I say, shaking my head all the while. "This is ridiculous. But okay, let's do it."

Ginny pushes open the heavy door. "I'll keep watch," she says. "You guys go in."

We trudge past Ginny into the circular room that makes the headmaster's office. She's the only one of us that's ever been in here, and I stand still for a moment, amazed by the novelty and remarkability of it all. Hundreds of curious, intricate artefacts and instruments line the curved walls, no doubt collections of Dumbledore. Surrounding them are dozens of portraits, undoubtedly of previous headmasters, who stare curiously at us from their frames. The room seems old but cosy, and much more so than you would expect from someone like Snape.

"There it is," says Neville, so suddenly that I jump. He is standing awestruck, facing an alcove in the wall at the top of the room. Behind glossy glass is the Gryffindor sword, even shinier than it should be in the sunlight that hits it.

"Not that impressive, is it?" says Luna mildly.

I grab a chair from the desk and climb up on it, so that I'm face to face with the glass. I can see my reflection in the sword, which sparkles tauntingly in front of my eyes.

"Uh, what next?" I ask, turning around to the other three.

"Smash it," replies Neville at once.

"No way. We only have a few minutes, and if people hear the glass..."

I trail off. Neville shrugs. "I can't think of another way, Iz."

I sigh. "Is there a spell to smash glass quietly?"

"Are you joking?" Ginny hisses, jumping forward from the doorway. "Stay away," she says as she points her wand at the glass. " _Reducto."_

The glass shatters and as if in slow motion, falls in one disintegrating piece, creating an almighty crash as it hits the ground.

"That was loud," says Neville cheerily. "Well, grab it, won't you, before Snape gets back."

Ignoring the horrified protests of the paintings around us, I close my fingers around the glistening handle and hoist it out. "Careful," says Luna, as I stagger under the weight of it. She puts her hand in mine and helps me off the chair.

I stare at the sword. It's sparkling, shining and unquestionably magnificent... But I can't help feeling that something about it doesn't quite seem right. "Take this," I mumble, shoving it towards Ginny and Luna. I grab the chair and drag it back to the desk. Then I point my wand at the glass and whisper, " _Reparo_ ".

"What are you doing that for?" asks Neville, furrowing his eyebrows. "I say we trash the place!"

"Can we go?" I ask. "I feel like someone's going to walk in at any moment."

"Yeah, come on," says Ginny nervously. The sword is, by now, hidden underneath her cloak, and it creates an unnatural bulge on her chest.

I pull open the oak door, so that the other three can pass through, and am about to walk around it myself when-

" _What_ do you think you're doing?"

My stomach drops and I fall back onto the wall behind the door. I hear loud, quick footsteps, and Snape's livid voice-

"Would one of you fools like to explain why you're here? And why you have – is that the-"

"It's the sword of Gryffindor," I hear Ginny say shakily. I remain hidden behind the door. "We're taking it back."

I peer through a crack in the wood, my heart thudding in my chest. Snape stands right on the other side, his pale face unnaturally flushed with rage. Ginny, Neville and Luna look petrified, and I am about to turn the corner to expose myself when Ginny looks straight at the crack through which I am watching, and widens her eyes at me, shaking her head ever so slightly. I hold my breath.

"You absolute fools," says Snape, his voice quavering with rage. "Are you unaware of the dangers of being here, of the grave values of your actions? You could have ruined-"

"The sword belongs to Harry," interrupts Neville bravely. "We were taking it to give it back to him, because you obviously would never."

"How very valiant," sneers Snape. In his anger, his eyes are even narrower than usual, and keep appearing to pass over my oak shield. My lungs feel like they are about to burst if I hold my breath any longer.

Ginny, Neville and Luna have fallen silent, and I hope desperately that they will stay that way. Saying anything else will only make Snape angrier, and I shudder to think what is going on in his mind right now. Once again, Ginny catches my eye through the crack in the door. " _Stay there,"_ she mouths.

For several long moments, no one says anything. Then Snape whips around to head back down the stairs, his robes hitting Neville in the face. "Come with me," he shouts, and grudgingly, the three follow.

Once I can't see them anymore, I slowly count to ten. Then I step reluctantly out of my hiding place, sprint down the stairs and edge back into the corridor, brushing the dust off my robes. I step forwards into the sunlight, thinking only of getting back to the common room, and out of suspicion-

"What are you doing here?"


	26. twenty-four

_I really hope you're happy, wherever you are._

-

"What are you doing here?"

I jump at the sound of Draco's voice. He is standing wide-eyed by the wall leading to the Great Hall. These are the first words he's spoken to me in months.

"I should ask you the same thing," I reply, after a moment's hesitation. Draco shrugs dismissively and looks away from me, fixing his eyes on the wall across from the headmaster's office. I gaze curiously at him, my heart still hammering in my chest. I need to get out of here before Snape gets back. "I'm just going for a walk," I say. "To clear my head, you know."

"Cool," he says shortly. He leans back against the corridor wall, but seems somewhat stiff. "Same."

A chilly draft blows in from the nearby window. I can see goosebumps on Draco's bare forearms and for a brief moment I want to tell him to get a jacket, or to walk around so his body can warm up. Until I remember I am in no position to tell him that anymore.

"You're missing dinner," I say, even though my entire body is willing me to run back to my dorm.

Draco breathes out, long and deep, his eyes still fixed on some spot in front of him. "So are you."

"I've eaten."

He doesn't reply, and I remain frozen in the spot I'm in. I notice, suddenly, that his hands are clenched into fists. He's also gotten new robes.

"Is this what you were like last year? Always sneaking around?"

He turns to me abruptly. "What do you want?"

I shrug. Now that Draco's turned to me, I can tell how much he's grown since we last spoke. "Just curious," I say casually, pretending not to notice that the top of my head barely reaches his chin. "Is there another Room of Requirement hidden around here or something? Vanishing Cabinet round two?"

Draco glares at me, his jaw clenched. For the first time, I glance away, feeling a twinge of unease. He checks a new-looking golden watch on his wrist before speaking again. "Snape sent me here because of a break-in," he says without looking at me. "If you were somehow involved, I'd suggest you get out of here before he returns."

"I can take care of myself," I say immediately, barely thinking to defend the idea that I'd been involved.

"I'm aware. But you'll get in trouble if he finds you here."

"So sorry," I reply. "I forgot you prefects are so close with all of the teachers. Would you like to dock some points before I go?"

"Nope," says Draco, his voice strained.

"Is it even being a prefect that's suddenly made you and Snape best friends?" I muse, crossing my arms and looking quizzically at the sky. "Or is it the whole Death Eater thing-"

At that, Draco swings around so that he's deathly close to my face, so close we're almost touching. "Get out of here right now," he says angrily, "or I'll tell Snape exactly why you're here."

I choke out a noise that I hope sounds something like a scoff and push him away from me. "Whatever," I say, staring at the ground and blinking rapidly to rid of the tears in my eyes. "There's no need to be so mean about it."

-

I don't want to tell Ginny, Neville and Luna about my encounter with Draco, but as it turns out, this doesn't prove too difficult. The three are sent straight to bed, and at breakfast the next day, they spend the entire meal pondering the terrifying variations of potential punishments they might receive for the break-in.

"Snape took us straight to McGonagall," says Neville later, as he and I head towards Muggle Studies. "He didn't say a word to us the entire way, that's how angry he was. Then he went on to her for half an hour about how bold we all are."

I grin, glad that we can finally find the light in the situation. "What was her reaction?"

"Um." He pauses to think. "A mixture of boredom and being very impressed that we made it all the way up to the office."

"Well, it was pretty impressive," I reply, taking a seat at the back of the class – as far away from Alecto Carrow as I can – and leaning back against the wall. In the corner of my eye, I spot Draco sit down across from me. "I'm just glad she didn't let Snape take you to the Carrows."

"We'd have been fine," Neville says immediately. "We're not scared of the Carrows."

"Maybe not," I say dryly, "But you'd probably be in the hospital wing right now if you'd had detention with them."

Neville shrugs. "Well, Snape probably thinks he's giving us an awful punishment by sending us to the forest with Hagrid. Doesn't realise that's just about the best detention we could get." The entire classroom goes silent as Alecto slams open the classroom door and stalks to her desk. Neville glares at her. "Not that she's much cleverer," he whispers.

There's no way Alecto can hear us all the way from her desk, but as if on command, her head snaps up to us. "Heard you were in a bit of trouble yesterday, Longbottom," she calls out. Neville doesn't reply, but glares at her, not breaking eye contact as she approaches our desk. I am in love with how brave he has become. "Heard you tried to take back your precious little sword," Alecto sneers. "As if you'd ever get away with that!"

"We almost did," says Neville. I nudge him underneath the table.

"Of course you did," says Alecto, in a tone so mockingly consoling that it makes my stomach churn. She laughs her awful, wheezy cackle. "I heard you didn't even make it out of the office."

As Draco caught me right at the office, those are the only words it will take to confirm to him that I was there as well. But for some reason, this doesn't worry me, and all I can think of is how to make Alecto leave the topic be.

"I think that's pretty far," Neville says defensively.

Alecto cackles again. "Sure it is, Longbottom. A great plan altogether."

"It would have worked!" he says angrily, his temper visibly rising. I stare at the desk, willing him to stop talking. "If Snape had gone to dinner like he had the entire week, we would have gotten the sword with no problem, and all of you idiots would be stumped right now."

Alecto, who is used to Neville's defensive comebacks, is laughing so hard by now that she is crouched over, clutching her stomach. "That's enough comedic relief for one day," she says, turning around to head back to her desk. I feel Neville clench his fists. "Classic," she wheezes. I glare at her back. "Oh, Snape's told us the whole story. I know your cute little scheme. _Broke_ the glass to get the stupid sword out, what are you, _Muggles_? No magic at all! Fools-"

"That's not true!" Neville interrupts. "Isobel broke and fixed the glass with magic, clearly Snape didn't tell you the full story if that's the version you have-"

Alecto stops in her tracks. The colour drains from Neville's face.

"What did you just say?"


	27. twenty-five

"I said," Neville says quickly, looking desperately from Alecto to me and back again, "I said, when – when I broke the glass-"

Alecto creeps towards me like an animal stalking its prey. "I thought you were being quiet today, Princess."

"So what?" I mutter.

"So what? You decided to sit back and let your little friends take the blame for your actions, did you?"

"That's not true," interrupts Neville again. "She would have stepped forward if we had let her-"

"What're you going to do?" I ask Alecto. "Expel me? Or try to make me perform the Cruciatus Curse on some innocent children, which would you prefer?"

Deathly close to me, she grins into my face, revealing pointed yellow teeth. "I won't send you off to the oaf Hagrid with the rest of your friends, that's for sure," she sneers.

"He's not an oaf," I say huffily. I'm horribly aware of the entire class on the edge of their seats, listening in. "Do what you want, I couldn't care less."

Alecto sighs dramatically. Her breath reeks. "I had higher hopes for you at the start of the year Young, given how your father went down-"

I stare daggers at her. "Don'tbring my dad into this."

"Why not? Because he knew that muggles are scum and you don't?"

"Because he's _dead_."

Alecto doesn't flinch. I hear Draco take a breath. "Turns out you're just as arrogant and self-righteous as Longbottom here," says Alecto, gesturing carelessly towards Neville, who clenches his fists. "Clearly your father didn't raise you right, Young."

"You didn't even know him."

"Well it's obvious, if you're friends with someone like Longbottom. Your father clearly slipped up somewhere. Or is there Muggle blood on your mother's side? Is that it?"

"Why does it bother you so much?" I ask angrily.

"Oh, I can just tell who has Muggle blood," replies Alecto airily. She taps the side of her head. "Affects them up here."

"Oh yeah?" says Neville, clearly unable to contain himself any longer. "How much Muggle blood have you and your brother got, then?"

With a loud _whip_ and several yells of protest, Alecto slashes through the air with her wand, and suddenly, blood is gushing from Neville's left cheek. He groans and slumps forward, clutching it, and I realise I have leapt up, my chair has clattered to the ground, and my wand is in my hand.

"What are you going to do, Princess?" Alecto asks, her chest heaving. "Fight me?" She stares at Neville, fire in her eyes. "Get out!" she yells suddenly, not even turning to the rest of the room. "Class dismissed! Leave! Longbottom stays!"

Everyone leaps to their feet, impatient to leave Alecto in her rage. "Are you joking?" I ask, pushing through people to get to her. "Look at what you've done to him! He needs to go to the hospital wing."

Alecto jabs her wand into my chest. "Leave, Young," she growls, "or _you'll_ need to go to the hospital wing."

I can feel Draco's eyes on me all the way out of the classroom, until we reach the door and he is forced to step in front of me. As the class file quickly out of the small room and the crowd disperses, he whirls around to face me.

"What the hell was that?" His pale cheeks are flushed with anger, his knuckles white. When I can only stare at him, he goes on; "You know how cruel the Carrows are, but you still insist on winding the two of them up. Are you crazy?"

I blink, still trying to register Alecto's outburst. "You- you're angry at me? Did you even hear any of the things she said?"

"I'm angry because you can't take any criticism, because you always feel the need to retaliate!" He impatiently pushes away hair that has fallen into his eyes. "If you could just sit there and take it like a normal person, and not be so defensive all the time-"

"Defensive?" I say incredulously. "And _criticism_? Is that what you call it? That was verbal abuse in there, I had every right to defend myself!"

"You're putting yourself into danger," says Draco irritably. "They wouldn't pick on you so much if you didn't have to be so – so brave about everything."

"Oh, what do you know?" I say, glaring at him. I glance back at the door, anxious for Neville to come out so I know he's okay. "I'll bet you're best friends with the Carrows-"

"Exactly," says Draco, stepping closer to me. "I know them, and I know what they're capable of. They were there that night, on the Astronomy Tower. You don't get it, they're ruthless. They could _kill_ you-"

I scoff. "She wouldn't have killed me back there, don't be ridiculous. Remind me why you care?"

Draco steps away immediately. "I don't care, obviously. But if your new boyfriend could do a better job at protecting you, I wouldn't have to intervene."

"My new-" I start. "Do you mean Neville? Wait, are you jealous of Neville?" Draco's face drops, and I go on. "Neville, someone you've bullied since literally day one! I don't believe it, he's going to be so happy when I tell him-"

"Don't flatter yourself, or Longbottom," he cuts in, his voice icy. "It's my responsibility to see that the Carrows stay here, and if some idiot messes that up for me, there'll be trouble."

My throat goes dry. Maybe I was wrong. "Well, I'm _not_ your responsibility," I reply evenly, leaning against Alecto's door. "So don't tell me what to do."

Draco glares at me. "You're impossible," he says harshly. "Listen, Be- Young. I know it must have been hard, getting over your father's death. But you can't take out your anger on people as dangerous as the-"

Draco falters at the expression on my face. "Getting over his death?" I say slowly, incredulously. Suddenly, I have no desire to restrain the rage that has been collecting inside me. "Are you serious? Your dad was in Azkaban for a while, _Malfoy_. Which I'm sure must have been hard on both him and you, and I'm sorry it happened. My dad is dead. He's gone forever, and I'm never going to see him again. I'm not going to 'get over' that, I'm just going to learn how to cope with it." A tear leaks down my cheek and I brush it away, embarrassed. "You and I have barely spoken in the past year, so don't pretend you know what's going on in my life. You don't anymore."

Draco's face has completely paled. "That's not what I meant."

"Oh, really?"

"What I mean is, you need to stay out of trouble. And stop making it, too."

"And what I mean is, stop telling me what to do."

Draco's jaw is clenched. "You just – you really don't get it, do you?"

I cross my arms tight. "Don't get what?"

"Forget it." He shoves a hand through his hair. "Just forget I ever said anything."

The door behind me opens and I stumble backwards, turning around to face Neville. The gash on his cheek is still bleeding and he looks utterly miserable. I take his hand in mine in a futile attempt to console him. By the time I turn back around, Draco has disappeared.


	28. twenty-six

"Right there!"

Alecto pushes my back, so hard that I stumble forwards. I use Snape's desk to steady myself. "Yeah, well-"

"She was right there under your nose, Severus," interrupts Alecto, pointing at Snape's door. "And she would have gotten away with it, the sneaky little thing, were it not for Longbottom-"

"Longbottom does have a tendency of saving the day recently," says Snape sarcastically; his tone so impassive that it almost seems he already knew of my involvement.

"I'm right here," mutters Neville beside me.

"That's right, and the little brat was trying to show off about it all too, when he accidently slipped in Young here's name-"

"Right," says Snape, not even glancing at Alecto.

"Anyway, in terms of punishment, I really don't think expulsion is the best option, because they'd probably love to be expelled, and with the new decrees-"

"Not to mention you would lose your favourite students," I say, smiling sweetly at Alecto.

"And your finest source of entertainment," adds Neville.

Alecto glares at us. "This, Severus," she says, "is only a taste of the audacity these two show me in class. The Cruciatus curse might straighten them up a bit-"

"I thank you for your wholesome advice, Alecto," says Snape, his every word dripping with sarcasm. I almost laugh before I remember I hate him. "But this incident is entirely between the culprits and so, I will decide on their punishment. You may leave."

Alecto stares at Snape open-mouthed, making a noise that sounds as if she just choked on her own spit. "But I'll do it," she says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Let me take them off your hands, less work for you-"

"No," says Snape impatiently. "Young will join Hagrid and the other three in the forest tonight."

"What kind of punishment is that?" says Alecto. "Severus, they're friends with Hagrid, didn't you know? Anyway, four is too many. That's practically a party."

"Fine," says Snape. I narrow my eyes at him, wondering why he won't just let Alecto organise a detention for me. "I'll have Filch organize something for the girl. I'm sure there's plenty of cleaning to be done. Now leave."

" _Fine_ ," snarls Alecto. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. "So they can just run along, and barely even be punished for breaking in, for lying, for giving cheek to a teacher. Next time, I'll think twice before bringing them to you!"

With a final furious glare at Neville and I, Alecto stomps out of the office, slamming the door behind her. Snape sighs and start to write something on a piece of parchment. "You'll have detention with Filch for an hour at eight tonight," he says, shoving the parchment towards me. "Now leave, and take Longbottom with you."

-

When I get to Filch's office later, he is possibly in an even worse mood than usual. His office smells old and dusty. "Sit there," he grumbles, pointing at a worn-out looking desk in the corner. "You're going to organise some detention slips. From irritating trouble-makers like you."

The wooden chair is uncomfortable and squeaks loudly as I sit into it. Filch glares at me as if the noise was my fault.

There's a window in the other corner of the office, near Filch. It's nearly dark; the sky has become a deep navy; but I can just make out silhouettes of trees scattered across the grounds, and a line of darkness where the beginning of the forbidden forest meets them. I turn to the clock and watch the time tick by. Its brass hands move so slowly that they may as well not move at all.

A few minutes, or maybe a few hours later, the door creaks open with a lazy knock. I glance up hopefully, wondering who it could be, but Filch's desk faces the open door and I can only see the back of it.

"What do you want?" Filch snaps, glancing once at the doorway before turning back to his drawers.

"I've come from Snape's office," says Draco's voice from the doorway. Of course it's him. "He needs you."

"He needs me?" repeats Filch. "I can't go, I'm doing a detention. Tell him I'll go later."

"He knows that," says Draco. He sounds bored. "He sent me to supervise while you go up. He says it will only take a few minutes."

"Why would he need me now?" says Filch, but Draco doesn't bother replying. Filch slams shut his drawer, jumping guiltily at the loud noise it makes, and pushes past Draco through the door. I hear him grumbling as he trudges away towards the headmaster's office.

Draco swings the door further open, striding into the office with contempt. Finally, his eyes latch onto mine. "Oh," he says pointedly. "It's you."

I give him a dirty look and turn to the detention slips littering the desk for the first time. "It's your lucky day," I mutter.

"How come you're here?" he says, staring at me. "Not with Alecto?"

"Back to this, are we?"

"No. I'm just wondering. You got off lucky, if you're not with her. Did Snape get you out of it?"

"Not everyone's best friends with Snape, like you are."

Draco's eyes harden and he turns around to face the drawers, his back to me. "Well, Filch should only be gone for a few minutes. So."

"So what?"

He doesn't reply. I glance at the clock on the wall again. I didn't think it was possible, but time is going even slower now than it did before Draco arrived. A few minutes. I can do a few minutes.

Draco paces slowly along Filch's dreary office, rattling his fingers against the metal handles of the drawers. And then he paces back, and does it again. And again.

"Will you stop that?" I say sharply. "I'm trying to do work here."

Draco snickers, still facing the drawers. "Work? You're actually _doing_ the work you're set in detention?"

I frown. "Sorry," I say to his back. "I forgot you were so rebellious yourself. How many times have you had a detention again? Once, wasn't it, in first year?"

He doesn't reply, but turns to the window I was looking out earlier. The old clock ticks loudly, and in the heavy, awkward silence, Draco drums his knuckles against the grimy glass, as if willing it to disappear.

"Do you enjoy it?" I say finally, unable to bear the quiet. I almost wish he would start rattling the drawer handles again.

His eyes flick to me, and for a moment I think he's going to turn around and come closer. But he looks back towards the window. "Enjoy what?"

"The whole high life you're living right now. You know, prancing around in undeserved status while your fellow classmates undergo undeserved punishment and torture?"

He raises an eyebrow, still staring out the window. "Yeah. It's great, thanks."

"Charming. I don't know why I ever felt anything for you."

"I don't know why you ever think I care."

There's another pause, and the clock ticks louder than ever; its steady beat drumming through my brain. Draco has opened one of Filch's drawers and is flicking through its contents. I bite back the sour taste in my mouth. "Where's Filch?"

"With Snape."

"I know. I mean, why isn't he back yet?"

"How should I know?"

"Well, you're the one who flounced in here and told him to leave-"

"What, you think I want to be here?"

My throat is dry. "Not interesting enough for you? Need some Death Eater action to liven things up?"

Draco slams shut the drawer. In the half second that it echoes around the stone walls, he stares at me, fire in his eyes. "Tell Filch I had to go," he says, stalking out of the room. "Or don't."

And then he is gone.

-

"I don't understand," says Neville later, when I tell my friends about the incident. We sit in our usual place in the Gryffindor common room. My nails dig into the deep red carpet. "Snape knows you dated Draco last year. Why would he send him?"

"He also knows we hate each other now," I say darkly, glaring at the fire that flickers quietly in its fireplace. It's dying. "I suppose it's his idea of a funny joke."

Neville nods slowly. "He was being so weird earlier too. I don't understand why wouldn't he just let Alecto organise your detention."

"He knows she'd screw me over if he did, I suppose. Although I don't see why he has a problem with that."

"Maybe because practicing the Cruciatus curse on pupils is insane?" suggests Ginny dryly. She lies on her back, staring at the ceiling.

I fall silent. "How was your detention with Hagrid?"

Ginny shrugs. "Fine. It's just Hagrid, it's not like we were going to have an awful time."

"But that's what I mean," says Neville. "Why did Snape let us off so easy?"

"Because he's an idiot," replies Ginny, her voice hard. "He didn't think to consider that we like Hagrid, and would actually have a good time with him. He probably just thought we'd be scared of the forest."

Neville sits back into the couch sleepily. "I guess."

"Or maybe he's secretly good", I say, biting back a smile. "Maybe he's a double agent."

Neville and Ginny laugh. The fire flickers behind them, and their laughter is warm and nostalgically familiar in my ears, but it's not loud enough to drown out my thoughts of Draco, and how he strode out of the office emitting no emotion but pure hatred, and how nothing will ever be the same as it once was.


	29. twenty-seven

_Dear Isobel,_

_You know I can't say much, so I hope you understand._

_We were wrong about your father. Someone I was talking to - I can't say who here - told me everything. I'll tell you when I see you. He was a good person, Isobel._

_I hope you don't feel guilty that we questioned him. I know I do (it kills me) but we shouldn't. He would only have wanted us to be happy we know the truth._

_See you soon love, I'm lonely without you._

_Love, Mum._   
  
  


I drop the paper onto my plate, my hands shaking. When I look up, Ginny, Neville and Luna are staring at me. "I-" My voice is unrecognizable. "My- my Dad was good. He was a good guy, he didn't die attacking muggles. I think he was trying to help them."

"That's great!" says Ginny, breaking into a smile. I slump forward in my seat. "Isobel, why do you look so upset? This is amazing!"

Around us, people are having breakfast - our second last before the Christmas holidays - chattering away, oblivious. I stare at my letter. "I can't believe I doubted him."

Ginny hesitates. "Don't say that."

"Is your mum sure?" says Neville. "It's definite?"

"Yeah." I pause, trying to collect my thoughts. "And all this time, I actually believed he might have been a bad guy." I put my head in my hands. "Oh my God."

Neville rubs my back. "Hey, it'll be okay," he says. "How were you supposed to know? I'm sure your dad would have understood."

"But I should have trusted him. When I found out he'd been hospitalized, I said that he would never try and hurt anyone, never mind innocent muggles." I try to swallow the lump in my throat. "I should never have questioned that."

"And at least you know now," Ginny offers. "At least you know for sure and can stop questioning it all."

I sniff, horribly aware that the three have never seen this emotional side of me before this year. "I guess you're right. I just wish I could apologize to him, you know?" I shake my head. "I'm sorry," I say dismissively, swiping away tears. "Great conversation for breakfast, right?"

"You can cry if you want to," says Luna. "It's okay to be upset."

"Whatever makes you feel better," says Ginny gently.

"Thanks guys," I say, desperately willing the conversation to end before I burst into tears. "At least we have that party tonight, right? That'll be fun."

With uncertain looks at each other, Ginny, Neville and Luna begin to talk about the party that is to be held in the Gryffindor common room tonight. Soon, they are whispering excitedly, discussing how Luna is going to get into the party and different ways to ensure it will disturb the Carrows.

I think about my Dad and how much I miss him, and the way that even though I miss him so much, with everything happening right now I probably don't miss him enough. And how I wish I could see him just once more, just for a second, just to say I'm sorry. I'm sorry for doubting you.

When I look up, Draco is staring at me all the way from his table, unwavering.

-

Twelve hours later, the land is dark and Gryffindor's party is in full swing. The common room is filled with students of all ages, dancing and chattering excitedly, eager to have a reason to forget everything. Eager to pretend they're not utterly miserable. That the world hasn't come to a standstill.

Shimmery strands of silk in all shades of red loop around the ceiling and walls. Every table is filled with bright plastic cups and bottles upon bottles of firewhiskey. In the fireplace, flames roar, enhancing the warm, red glow. There are few better ways to piss off the Carrows than showing Gryffindor pride.

"Hey, Iz."

Ginny is at my side, clutching a cardboard box, her eyes alight with excitement. Her hair, I notice, is the exact same shade as the fire I've been watching. "Hey," I say, staring at the box.

Ginny holds it up. "This is Devil's Snare," she says proudly. "Or something like it, Neville can explain it better. We're going to go cover the Carrows' classrooms with it. We might do some DA graffiti as well while we're out. You know, one last time before Christmas."

"Oh. Okay, cool. I'll join."

Ginny squints uncertaintly at me. "Are you okay?"

I wrap an arm around Ginny's shoulders, wishing I could find the words to express my appreciation for her, or the feelings I'm not sure I feel. "I'm wonderful, Gin," I lie. When I turn around to face her, I realize she is eyeing my cup of firewhiskey. "You can't judge me for this," I say, holding up my cup.

"I know," says Ginny. "And I'm not. But I think it would be safer if you stayed here. You know, just in case we got caught."

I nod slowly, too intoxicated to care that my best friend thinks I'm emotionally unstable. My world is buzzing. "Okay."

"I'll see you later," says Ginny. With a squeeze on my hand, she is gone.


	30. twenty-eight

  
_I miss you. I miss your touch and your skin and your warm smell. Your hand in mine, your breaths against mine. Your voice that always seemed to say more than it was saying._

-

I stare at the fire for a few minutes longer before I realize I actually want to follow Ginny and the others. Of course I want to help destroy the Carrows' classrooms, and Ginny can't stop me.

I edge out of the portrait door. The darkness of the wide corridor in comparison to the brightly lit common room is sudden and overwhelming. The only light comes from the flickering candles that line the walls. As I head on in search for my friends, I suddenly remember it's nearly Christmas time. If it weren't for the jingly music drifting from the common room, it wouldn't seem like it at all. There's not a decoration in sight.

"What are you doing here?"

I spin around, causing half my drink to spill along my arm. "Oh, hello there." Draco stands mere meters from me, his face so perfectly illuminated in the flickering light that he looks like a mysterious fairy prince. A beautiful fairy prince. "Draco. What a convenient twist to my night."

He keeps his distance, eyes on mine. I feel myself blushing. "Why are you here?" he says sharply. "What are you doing out of bed?"

"Are you angry, or just concerned for my safety? It's hard to tell sometimes."

Draco shifts uncomfortably, and I notice his gaze dipping down to my outfit. "I can have you punished for this," he tells me.

"But you won't," I say, stepping closer to him. "You won't have any harm come to me, will you?"

Draco blinks. "Are you drunk?"

I stare at him blankly, wishing I could explain how numb I feel. I can still hear the Christmas music, faint and unfittingly cheerful. I notice the shades of blond in his hair changing in the candlelight. He'll never know how wonderful he looks.

"I really hope you don't hate me," I say finally. "I've been a bit angry lately. But I suppose we're all allowed to be a bit angry right now."

Draco shakes his head. "You should be in your common room," he says. "You shouldn't be out here."

Thinking of my dad, and the life I could have had with Draco, and of the world crumbling around us, tears fill my eyes. I've been mean, I know I have. But I'm angry and sad and breaking. "Do you hate me?"

"No," says Draco. "No, I don't. You need to get out of here."

"I don't want to," I say. "I don't want to be with people right now." _Except you_ , I catch myself thinking.

Draco sighs. "As head boy, I'm telling you to get back to your common room."

"I don't want to."

"Well, you have to."

I frown at him. "Let me go, then. Let me go for a walk or something. Just not back to the common room. Please?"

He sighs again. "You can't go for a walk alone."

"Yes, I can."

Just then, footsteps sound in the next corridor. Draco grabs my arm and pulls me into a narrow stairwell. The space is tight, and even in my tipsy, numb state, all I can feel is his chest against my back, his arm around my shoulders.

"Oh", I say softly. "This is cozy."

Draco's hand snaps up over my mouth and he moves back so that he is touching me in as few ways as possible. His back must be sorely pressed against the stone wall. "Be quiet," he murmurs.

The footsteps grow louder. I hear voices rising and cloaks swishing, and shadows grow large against the stone walls, but they gradually fade and I know we are safe. I try to move out of the stairwell, but Draco grabs my arm again. I gasp, and he pulls back his arm at once. "Sorry," he whispers. "But we should stay here, just until we're sure the coast is clear. If one of the Carrows see you out of bed – well, you know what they're capable of."

"I do indeed. You tried to educate me on that very topic a while ago."

"Yeah, well. You don't want them to catch you."

"No, I'd rather they didn't. Although, I'm not sure it would matter if you were with me," I turn around to him, smiling. "My knight in shining armour, remember? That's what I said to you two Christmases ago. Can you believe how much has changed since-"

Draco presses his finger to my lips, shushing me, but pulls away almost at once.

"Why can't you be out there? You're head boy."

"Someone needs to keep you quiet."

"How courteous-"

Draco puts his finger to my lips again, shushing me gently. The stairwell is not built to accommodate two seated people, and no matter how far back Draco tries to sit, his knees press up against mine. It's all I can feel; he is the only real thing in the world and I long for him to be closer. He is electric; every time his knuckles accidently brush against me, goosebumps rise on my arms. If I was giddy before, that is subsiding now, and a strange sense of reality is beginning to take its place.

"I remember your touch so well," I say, pressing my fingers lightly to his knee. I know I shouldn't, and I'm so embarrassed that I'm almost glad I can't see his face. But I can't stop. "I can remember a time when it didn't make you uncomfortable. When all you wanted was more, even when nothing was left." Draco shifts, and I continue. "Don't tell me you never think about that," I say. I move forward so that our faces are closer. "I see the way you look at me, Draco. And this? You wouldn't go to this trouble for any other Gryffindor." I move my fingers up to his shoulders. "Do you miss it?" Draco is breathing heavily. Now that I'm closer, I can make out his face. His eyes don't leave mine. I take his hand, and place it softly against my left shoulder. "You would tickle me here, and I would touch you – there. Behind your ears. It was all so stupid, right? But so, so wonderful. Like we were the only people in the world. Do you miss it, Draco?"

We are deadly close now. When he speaks, his voice comes out croaky. "Stop saying my name."

Tears prick at my eyes. "I do. I miss it, and I don't believe that you don't." I lean forward, millimetres, and place a soft kiss on his cheekbone. "Draco," I whisper. He doesn't reply, but his eyes are miserable, desperate. A tear leaks onto my cheek. "Draco. I just wish I could-"

And I press my lips against his. And suddenly, I am taken back to a happier time, a wonderful, innocent time when we were careless and blissfully ignorant, when sadness and drunken tears did not exist, only oblivion-

"No."

I blink.

"No," Draco repeats hoarsely. He stands up abruptly and moves out of the stairwell. "They're gone now. Come, I'll take you back to your common room."

And I follow obediently, with not a word more than a quiet "thanks," when he leaves me at the portrait. I smile sadly as his figure grows smaller and smaller while he retreats down the stairs, eventually disappearing around the corner. "Merry Christmas, Draco."


	31. twenty-nine

_I miss the way you looked in the morning, the way you smiled with tired eyes... Good morning, I love you. Goodnight, I love you... How your bones fitted perfectly against mine. I miss you so, so much._

-

As usual, when Christmas ends and the new year begins, everyone is filled with a false sense of hope. Like writing a different date at the top of our many assignments will allow for change in the world. The first day of a new year isn't any different from the days before it, but students swarm back into Hogwarts with a refreshed sense of determination, and a refreshed hatred for the Carrows and Snape.

I am waiting, waiting for news, waiting to know that Harry has made progress in his disappearance. To defy all the people who claim he has fled; who call him a coward. Waiting for a day that I am sure will come, but it might be tomorrow, or it might be years from now. The not knowing drives me crazy. But with Dumbledore dead and Harry gone, the only thing we can turn to for hope is ourselves. I didn't realise that until now. We have that power.

These days, what I am also waiting for is Luna's return. On the train home before Christmas, Death Eaters came on board to take her, because of her dad's anti-Death Eater approach in the Quibbler. Ginny keeps insisting she's probably at home now with her dad, but if she was, she would contact us. Just a word to let us know she's safe. Luna at home with her father is a nice idea, but I know in my heart it's not true.

"I keep hoping she'll pop up at breakfast one day," I say to Ginny and Neville as we head out to the Great Hall. I picture Luna waiting for us at one of the long tables, smiling and serene. But days keep passing by, and the time that she's been gone is only getting longer.

"Do you think she's..." Neville pauses, his eyes fixed on the floor. "Do you think she's still okay?"

I shudder. "I don't want to think about it."

Ginny bites her lip as we climb out of the common room. "I know it's horrible to think about," she says. "Poor Luna. But she's probably locked up somewhere, and I think we should do our best to find her and get her out. She'd do the same for..." Ginny trails off. I follow her eyes on the bottom of the staircase, where Draco leans against a pillar, looking nervous. His hair is more unruly than I've ever seen it.

I nod awkwardly to Ginny and Neville, whose worried expressions have turned into ones of spite. "I'll see you in a few minutes."

I've managed to avoid Draco for the past few weeks, looking away whenever his eyes lock onto mine, staring at the floor whenever he passes by. I may also have turned around to hide when I saw him approaching. Once or twice.

But as I approach him, I know by the grim expression on his face that there is no escaping what I'm about to hear. "We need to talk," he says finally, watching me approach.

I try to look confident. "I don't think we do."

"Yes, we do," Draco replies evenly. His eyes are watchful, intimidating. "What you did before Christmas was wrong, and you can't do anything like that again. Okay?"

"Oh, so it was entirely my fault?" I ask. "If you didn't keep leading me into situations like that-"

"That was all you!"

I scoff. "You should get your head out of your ass."

Draco doesn't flinch. "And you should stop turning to alcohol to fix your problems."

"Excuse me? What I did was a drunken mistake, but that doesn't mean I'm a raging alcoholic-"

"Drunken mistakes don't exist," Draco says roughly. He's rattled too, I can tell – his brow is furrowed and his foot taps against the ground. "Not unless we are drunk to the point where we don't know what's going on, which you were not. I know you meant what you said, and you need to stop meaning it."

"I don't-"

"You've been doing this for years," he continues. "You say things you don't mean; you put on a cold front to hide your feelings." He pauses, and I know we're both thinking of this time two years ago, when he had gotten so frustrated with me for not owning up to my feelings for him. I almost want to laugh at the memory - I had thought things were so hard back then. Draco's jaw clenches. "When you're drunk, you can't mask those feelings."

"Well, what do you want me to do?" I ask angrily, praying he can't tell I'm on the verge of tears. "If you're just here to embarrass me, I'd rather leave."

"I want you to stop loving me."

I pause. Draco's hair is in his eyes, his cheeks are pink and I never – _never_ imagined he would say something like this to me. "What?"

"Stop... Just stop loving me. Okay?"

"I don't love you-"

"You don't hate me."

Heat rises in my face. "How would you know?"

"Don't play around, Be- Young. You're putting on this ridiculous cold front, and I know there's something-"

"There's nothing!"

"Stop lying-"

"Fine," I say, so suddenly that I even catch myself off guard. "Fine. I hate that you're a Death Eater and I hate the people you're with and the side you're on, but I don't hate you. I've tried to hate you - believe me - but I keep thinking about all the things you never told me and how little I really know, and I don't have the right to hate you for that. And I'm tired of pretending I do."

When I break off, Draco is staring at me like he's never seen me before. "That's not how you were supposed to react," he mumbles.

"Oh," I say awkwardly. "How was I supposed to react?"

"You were supposed to hate me again," he says. He tugs on the strap on his bag, as if looking for something to do.

"I don't think I ever really hated you, Draco."

Draco looks at the floor immediately. "Don't say my name."

"You can try to make me hate you," I joke, trying desperately to ease the tension. "Say some mean things, quick."

Draco's lips quirk upwards; the ghost of a smirk; and I feel a sharp pang of nostalgia. "Careful, Young," he says, and I think - I think - I hear a hint of sarcasm; "or I might have to deduct house points."

I stare at him in delight, barely unable to contain the excitement rising rapidly inside of me. I haven't felt this kind of hope in months, almost years. He is smiling too; maybe not his lips, but his eyes crinkle up in a joy I had almost forgotten. "Does this mean-"

"Isobel?"

The moment dies as quickly as it arrived. Ginny and Neville have returned, and are waiting by the entrance to the Great Hall, looking at me expectantly. Draco is wearing a sudden expression of - worry? Regret? He brushes past me, away from the Hall. "Bye," he mumbles.

"What was that?" asks Ginny, as soon as I've stopped staring at his retreating figure. Had we had just a moment longer, I could have known how he feels –

"Isobel," says Ginny again. Neville is still glaring in Draco's direction. "Are you talking to him again?"

"Not really," I say slowly, my mind still on Draco.

"Well, you shouldn't," she says. "I really don't think it's a good idea-"

"He doesn't either." His words ring in my head. _I want you to stop loving me._

"But why does he think that?" says Neville. "Why did he want to talk to you in the first place?"

I pause, trying to find a way around this that doesn't involve telling the truth. How do you explain loving someone you claim to hate? Finally, I say admittingly; "because maybe... He might – somehow – have gotten the idea that I still having feelings for him."

I rush the last part, so it takes a moment before they register my words. "Do you?" asks Neville incredulously.

I pick at my nails. "Maybe."

Ginny and Neville burst out with equally loud exclamations of protest. People around us stare.

"Are you serious?" says Ginny.

"Oh no," I say lightly. "I just thought it would make a funny joke."

Ginny rolls her eyes at my sarcasm, but Neville's concerned look doesn't falter. "Isobel – you can't," he says earnestly. "We're supposed to set good examples – what will the rest of the DA think?"

I hesitate. "Isn't it more important what I think?"

"I can't see what you feel for him," says Ginny. "But if you don't want to mess up – everything – then you should stop feeling it."

"Oh yeah?" I reply coldly. "Well, you should stop acting like you know what's best for me."

Ignoring their pleas of apology, I whirl around and stalk off, away from the Hall. Suddenly, I understand Draco better than ever.


	32. thirty

"I suppose it could be worse," admits Neville on our way to Muggle Studies. I'm grateful he's speaking to me again; this class is bad enough as it is and would be unbearable without a friend beside me. "You could be interested in... Amycus or someone. That's where we'd really draw the line."

I snort. "If I fancied Amycus, Ginny would murder me in my sleep."

Neville sighs. "Ginny isn't angry at you, Iz. She even said that you should be allowed to fancy whoever you want. I think she just really wishes that person wasn't Malfoy."

"Well, don't worry," I say, as we join the crowd streaming into Muggle Studies. "These are just my feelings. Draco probably hates my guts."

When we turn the corner into Alecto's classroom, she is already there; leaning backwards on a stool with her stubby legs propped up. I wrinkle my nose as Neville and I slide into our seats, but don't dare give her a dirty look or anything of the like. For now, it's better I just stay out of the Carrows' ways.

Once everyone is inside, Alecto clears her throat obnoxiously and begins to tell us about whatever fascinating topic today's lesson will cover. I don't hear her; Draco's usual seat is unoccupied. He didn't show up to class.

It's not out of the ordinary for Draco to skip class. He's out of it as much as he's in it – although he isn't missing much, especially not in subjects like Muggle Studies. This year, he and Snape have become like comrades, and Draco always seems to be away, running errands for him. Not that I notice.

The class crawls on. The only logical thought Alecto brought to this room was to hang a clock on the wall, and it glares at me from the far corner, minutes ticking by like snails. Feet still on her desk, Alecto drones on, reiterating the three awful words that we've heard countless times from her mouth: Muggles Are Scum. And other variations. I've tuned out – it's alarming how immune everyone has become to hearing such a thing, but her words pass through our heads as if she were talking about the weather. My gaze passes over the other students – most of them hate the Carrows, but even the ones that suck up to her doze off in this class. By the window, Goyle looks as if he might begin to snore any second.

Draco's seat is still empty.

"Young."

My head jerks up; I had become so absorbed in Draco's absence that I hadn't even noticed Alecto rising to her feet and moving through the tables, towards Neville and I.

She pauses moments from where we sit, malicious eyes on mine. "Heard about your dad, Princess."

I feel everything inside of me drop. As the weeks following Christmas break rolled slowly by, I grew more and more certain that the Carrows hadn't heard the news about my father. That I wouldn't have to face a conversation like this. I usually retaliate to whatever nonsense Alecto comes out with, but if she says something about my dad, I don't know. I don't know if I can take it.

I take a deep breath. "You're a little late."

"Heard he wasn't quite the man he made himself out to be," she sneers. "Heard he confunded Muggles into hiding."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"A man of pure blood, pushing Muggles into hiding and away from what they deserve?"

"Whenever he found out Death Eaters were planning to attack, he confunded Muggles to go into safety," I say, my voice shaking. Neville squeezes my hand under the desk. "Death Eaters. Your people. That's not a bad thing, that's human decency."

"Don't talk about us like that!" Alecto says at once, her eyes growing wild. She's crazy, I'm sure of it. "Not when he – your father – pretended to be one of us for so long!"

"That's not fair-" Neville starts, but I nudge him sharply. His face is so full of wounds, it's best he doesn't get involved.

"I think it's pretty fair," says Alecto. "Turns out daddy's not so great after all. Isn't that right, Princess?"

Heat's rising on my cheeks now. I can't stand her, I can't. What do I say? How do I make her stop? Where's Draco? It takes all my courage to look Alecto in the eye. "He pretended to be one of you so he could help more innocent Muggles. I think his plan was genius."

"Muggles are scum!" she shrieks. I can feel every pair of eyes in the classroom on me, watching, wondering. How far am I going to let her go? How far until I break? Alecto creeps closer. "Have I taught you nothing?" she asks, her voice suddenly soft, whispering, wheezy. Terrifying. "Muggles are scum, and clearly, so was your father."

I don't reply. I'm staring at my desk now, unable to look up without bursting into tears. I bite my lip until the skin breaks, trying to give myself some other pain to think about. It doesn't work.

"What's wrong?" breathes Alecto, so near to my face now that I can smell her – smoke and beer and death. The class is deadly silent. In my line of vision, she grins. "Run out of smart comebacks? Or have you realised that your father was nothing more than Muggle-loving scum? Huh?" She moves closer and jabs her wand into my chin. "Guess he got what he deserved. Isn't that right, _Princess_?"

And then the bell goes, and it is over. It is finally over.

I have never gathered my books so fast in my life. Alecto watches as I stumble into the throng of classmates, all of whom are determinedly avoiding my gaze. I can hear Neville behind me, calling my name, but soon I am running and his voice is getting fainter and I know nothing but the need to get away, away from these people who know nothing but uncertainty and war, away from this life of blindness. I move on, up, until I don't know where I am, but I am alone.

I don't want to be alone.

A door bangs open. He is there and he is waiting, unexpectant, as if actively giving me the choice what to do with his presence: to hate him or to love him, but I fling myself into his arms. I'm grabbing at his chest and my body is shaking with tears, and maybe seconds, minutes or days have passed, but I am in his arms again.

Through tears, I try to speak. "She – she-"

"I know," Draco murmurs into my hair. He holds me tighter. "I heard. I'm so sorry."

"I'm being stupid, I know I am," I say, my voice muffled against his chest. "But you should have heard her." I cry harder. "I'm trying to be strong, but-"

"I think you've been strong enough," Draco says, his voice warm and wonderfully familiar. "I'm so, so sorry."

His shirt is already soaked, but I lean closer yet, trying to take all of him in at once. He even smells familiar. "It's not your fault."

He doesn't reply. All I want is to hear him speak; I want to listen to his voice forever. I want to watch the way he listens and watches and moves. I want to hold him, dance with him, love him. Him, him, him.

And then; "God, I've missed you."

"Say it," I say, so abruptly that he pulls away ever so slightly, to look at me questioningly. "Say the name."

"Oh." He pauses, the ghost of a smile in his sad eyes. "I've missed you, Belly."

I hiccup, trying to hold him somehow closer with my face still buried in his chest. "I've missed you too."


	33. thirty-one

After a year and a half apart, Draco and I have a lot of catching up to do. In the long hours we spend in that solitary classroom, I barely skim the surface of all the things I want to tell and ask. But before we know it, the sky outside is pitch black and we have missed dinner by hours, and he is kissing me goodnight and promising that tomorrow will be a better day.

I have a lot to tell him. But there is a lot I don't tell him, because I feel ashamed and guilty and undeserving of his love. I don't tell him that that night, Neville and Ginny are still awake, waiting in the common room for me. I don't tell him how they try to talk me out of it, like the countless times before. I don't tell him how I finally, _finally_ stand my own ground and tell them I can love whoever the hell I want to love. I don't tell him the shame that burns inside of me – I had two years to defend myself and Draco, and I am only doing it now.

The days flick by slowly, like well-worn pages of a weathered book. It's an amalgam of tired smiles across library tables and Draco wrapping his scarf around my neck on windy winter days, of dusty books as we cram for exams that we will soon be sitting - if the school isn't blown apart before then. Of the hungry kisses of two people who have missed each other like crazy. Of averting my eyes whenever Draco rolls up the sleeves of his jumper, of the twisted black serpent glaring up at us. There are monsters on the horizon, hazy and heinous, but I pretend I can't see them.

But even though I am consciously pretending that everything is okay; pretending that we aren't ghosts of the people we once were; I am happier than I have been in months. Everything definitely isn't okay, but with Draco beside me, that is easier to forget.

Draco wills himself to forget with a vigour, aggressively certain that we are alright, that everything is fine now that we're together. This is what he echoes as I point out snowdrops blooming near the crevices of the Great Lake; whisperings of Spring. "Things are getting better," he says. "The world knows it."

I lie on my back, squinting at the February sun. "You think so?"

"I know so."

A cold breeze hits my cheeks. We are lying on a bank by the Great Lake, and as we are the only people around, the only other sound is the faint, cheerful chirping of a couple of nearby birds.

"I'm sorry I didn't listen," I say carefully. "That night after... After the Astronomy Tower. I might have understood, we might have had so much more time together..."

I watch Draco's mouth tilt into a sad smile. "I was kind of glad, to be honest," he says. "I wanted you there, obviously, but I keep thinking that having you hate me was the perfect excuse to keep you away from me. To keep you safe."

I jut out my chin, drawing my hands in patterns along the grass. "You're always trying to keep me so damn safe, Draco. I'm perfectly capable-"

"I know, I know," Draco says. "You can take care of yourself, bla bla bla." He leans over me, smirking. The grass under my fingertips is a deep green, saturated, healthy and cold from the winter precipitation, but I can barely feel it, as my every sense is concentrated on him.

I try to memorize it: the fractals of colour in his eyes; the crinkles at the corners when he grins. The way the sun moves as he does; bobbing in and out behind him; the light breaking through his hair and revealing dozens of shades in the white blond, and through his long, fair eyelashes as he blinks.

"I'm an idiot," I say loudly, and the vision above me raises an eyebrow. "I could have got this – you – back so long ago, but I was too stubborn to see my own mistakes."

Draco leans on his elbow. "What mistakes?"

"I doubted you. I began to associate you with all the stereotypes I've ever known of Death Eaters-" Draco winces at the word – "instead of trusting the boy I knew. Just like I doubted my dad." I squeeze my eyes shut so he disappears from my vision. "I don't know why you even like me."

I feel a kiss on jawline. "Because you're brave."

"You don't have to answer-"

He kisses my cheekbone. "And you're kind, and funny." Then, he kisses my forehead. "And you're cute when you're scrappy."

I groan. "You're so cringy."

Draco taps my nose so I open my eyes. "And finally, because you're the fairest maiden in all the land."

I crack up, and so does he, wrapping his fingers in mine as he laughs.

He flops back on the grass beside me, stretches out his arms. "When this is over," he says, "we'll run away. To a little cottage, somewhere hidden and solitary. You like the sea, right?" I nod, silenced by his gaze – such excitement, such optimism. "We'll go to the sea then," he continues decisively, "and we'll live in a tiny cottage right beside it. We'll lie on the beach and build sandcastles and breathe in salty air all day long. And we'll forget all the people that ever told us no."

I smile, impressed by his hopefulness, but I can't push away the niggling feeling – what if that day never comes?

"Doesn't that sound amazing?" he says when I don't respond. "We'd be so happy."

"I'm happy right now."

He draws circles on my arm. I think, for a moment, I've offended him, but his voice is patient. "Why don't you want to think about the future?"

"I didn't say that," I reply slowly. But Draco is right and I know the answer: he believes the world is getting better, while I believe it's breaking.

I don't tell him this. This happy side of him is one I haven't seen in a long time. Telling him I expect the school to combust into flames at any second would only crush it.

So I lie back, I close my eyes to hide the doubt, and I murmur, "tell me about it then. Tell me about the cottage."

Draco speaks as if he hasn't spoken to another person in years, telling of a house that is covered in cushions and blankets and huge windows where we can sit and watch the rain, and he can read and I can write, and we are the only people for miles. We will go for walks by the shore in the evening, watching the sun dip under the ocean-blue horizon, and sleep in the largest, softest bed we could ever imagine. He speaks and he speaks, and he traces tiny pictures on my arm of a couple dancing on a moonlit beach, never speaking to anyone but each other for the rest of our lives; just the two of us until we are old and frail.


	34. thirty-two

_I know you're happier now but it hurts._

-

Easter arrives early this year, and before I know it, the Hogwarts Express has rolled back into Platform 9 ¾, the frost on the windows having barely melted from the icy months before. Draco pulls me into an empty compartment, tucks a strand of dirty blonde hair behind my ears and tells me he'll see me soon, tells me to keep safe, tells me he wishes everything could be different but he swears it will be, in time. Kisses me like kissing can save his life.

And when we stand on the platform and he has no choice but to go home, to go back to a house built on unhappiness; when he has turned away and his hand has slipped out of mine and he thinks I am no longer watching, I catch a sour expression pulling at his pale face. The boy who had no choice.

But besides his sharp edges, Draco is becoming more and more like his old self – the boy full of smirks, sarcasm and snarky comments; the boy who pinned me against a wall and murmured in my ear when we were supposed to be bitter enemies. That was the exhilaration I glimpsed today. My head still spins from his touch – on my hands, neck, then my waist, then my legs – and then gone, snatched away from me suddenly as his friends opened the compartment door. Unfortunately.

I jump as a hand catches my shoulder.

" _Isobel,"_ says Ginny. She looks breathless and somewhat windswept. "I've been calling your name for ages."

I try desperately to wrench my mind from the compartment, from my fingers in his soft hair-

"Sorry. I was just thinking about something."

Ginny wrinkles her nose. "I hope it wasn't Malfoy. You've gone pink, you know."

I feel my cheeks heat up even more. "Just homework."

Ginny gives me a look that says I might as well have told her I was thinking of proposing to Filch. "Regardless of whatever disgusting things were going on in your brain-" she says, and I supress a smile – "I have something really important to tell you."

She glances at the crowd around us, then pulls me behind a pillar. I frown. "What-"

"Remus Lupin is here," says Ginny in hushed tones, her eyes not on me but darting between the people that swarm around us, anxious to know that no one is listening in. "I asked him if he had any news on Luna. He hasn't heard anything, but is sure all captives are being held in-" her eyes finally fall on mine – "Malfoy Manor."

The words are sharp as knives, and a mass of questions fling themselves at me at once. Are Draco and Luna under the same roof? Are Draco's parents the ones keeping her hostage? Is Malfoy Manor really that bad? I blink. "It can't be. He'd know... Draco would have known, surely, if Luna was being held in his house."

"What if he did know?" says Ginny urgently. "Maybe he didn't tell you. Isobel, this is our only lead-"

"Of course he would have told me," I say, stung that she still distrusts him like this.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Is Remus sure..."

Ginny nods slowly. "Is it possible Malfoy doesn't know? That his parents didn't tell him? Because I really think Remus is onto something. It's a big, intimidating house, with lots of security measures; it's the perfect place for hostages."

As much as I hate the idea of Luna imprisoned in some room, I can feel comfort creeping into my heart - Draco's home sounds a thousand times better than the tiny, cold cell I'd imagined her in.

"I can't mail him," I say. "Letters are still being monitored. I guess I'll just have to... Show up, won't I? Do my best to break her out?"

Ginny hesitates. "Is that safe?"

"Safer than Luna spending another day locked up. Like you said, it's just a lead. If Luna's not there, I'll be out as soon as I know it. Besides," I say, carefully watching Ginny's expression. "Draco won't let anyone hurt me."

Ginny pulls a face. "Can I go too? I wouldn't want to intrude on your canoodling, but as Luna's life is at stake-"

I snort. "Are you joking? Harry Potter's great love, show up at Malfoy Manor? Not a chance, Gin. At least I can get away with pretending to be on their side. And no offence, but Draco doesn't really care for you. He wouldn't bother protecting you, should anything go wrong."

"The feeling is mutual," grumbles Ginny. She runs a hand through her long, flaming hair; a poorly masked attempt to conceal the blush that arose at the Harry comment. "When are you going to go?"

"Tonight, of course," I say, and Ginny looks alarmed. "I have to go tonight. What if they're not feeding her? What if they're..."

I can't go on, but Ginny is nodding already. "You're right," she says. "She's been gone for months. Just be careful, Iz."

"I'll be fine." And even though I don't believe a word of it myself, I say, "They'll probably all be distracted by Draco's return anyway. Too distracted to... To notice Luna and I."

"Right," says Ginny, but I can tell she doesn't believe it either. The truth lingers awkwardly in the air between us – Malfoy Manor is a dangerous place to visit, and even more dangerous to break in to – or out of.

"I'll be fine," I repeat. "If anyone can get in there, it's me. Besides, Draco will help."

"I wish I could go," says Ginny wistfully. "It would be easier with two of us-"

"You can't," I say shortly. "The way Draco speaks about it, it doesn't exactly seem like a cosy, homey house. Anyway, I've been there before. I'll be alright."

Ginny rolls her eyes. "Mum wouldn't let me anyway. It's a shame Neville isn't here, he'd have loved to cause ruckus in the Malfoy house."

"I'm glad he isn't," I say darkly, and the thought settles uncomfortably over me. Neville breaking into Malfoy Manor would inevitably end up in him fighting a Death Eater and nearly getting himself killed for the hundredth time. I've never met Bellatrix Lestrange, but from what I've heard, the Carrows could only dream of her ruthlessness.

As Ginny pulls me into a hug, an emotion I can't identify flickers over her face. Regret? Or the pain of deep concern? "Be safe," she whispers. "If I've hurt you, it's only because I care about you."

That night, I sit with my mother on a couch in the living room, drinking tea and talking about our year so far. I grew up in this house, know every corner and crevice, but with my father gone, it feels like an entirely different place. My mother knows it too, which makes it so difficult to leave.

I have missed her like crazy, but as we speak, all I can think of is Luna. Now that I think I know where she is, it is easier to picture her suffering, and with every minute that passes, fresh anxieties creep into my mind. Even when my mother tells me how lonely she is, even when she sheds tears about my father, my mind buzzes only with the prospect of getting Luna back to safety. It's awful, and I feel guilty – of course I do – but this is finally, finally something I can make better. Finally something I might be able to fix.

As my mother stands up to go to bed, she pauses and turns. Her deep blue eyes used to remind me of the ocean, but right now, all I can see in them is pain. "It's not safe here anymore, Isobel," she says softly. "What your father did made the Death Eaters angry. I don't know how much longer we can hide away here."

I grab her hand. It feels too fragile; thinner than I remember. "Then move, Mum. Get out of the country, go somewhere you know you'll be safe. I'll be fine here, I promise."

She puts her hand to my cheek, her eyes pained. "I won't lose you too, Isobel," she whispers. "I'll never, never leave you."

_But I'm leaving you._

I shove the thought from my mind; impatiently brush away tears as I throw on the fanciest outfit I can find; strapless top, fitted skirt - anything to make me fit in with the lavish Malfoy Manor. I brush mascara through my eyelashes, slick on lipgloss as fast as I can – channelling the snobbiest, most prestigious version of myself I can muster. I curl my hair and let it hang loose down my back. Then I grab a quill and scribble a note to my mother. _I'll be back soon._

Will I? How soon?

That doesn't matter. My mother is hurting, yes, but Luna is suffering. Luna, who showed me ultimate respect and kindness no matter what I did. Luna, who supported my every decision and is the only person who never told me 'no'. I fold the note and leave it on my bed – a bed I haven't slept in for months. I'll be back soon.

Before I can think twice, I twist and Disapparate.


	35. thirty-three

The moment I find my footing, and Malfoy Manor is looming over me, I raise my hand and knock loudly on the enormous door. The wood hurts my hands. The door creaks open almost at once and a pair of small, beady eyes peer around it. I recognise them immediately as belonging to the man who let me in on the night of Dumbledore's death – almost a year ago now.

His voice is thinner than I remember – almost weary. "Yes?"

"I'm here to see Draco Malfoy," I say; my exact words from the last time I stood here.

"Your name?"

"Pansy Parkinson," I say; the words out of my mouth before I can stop them.

He narrows his eyes at me. "Don't I know you?"

My heart skips a beat. "I – I should hope so," I say, trying to sound arrogant. "I'm a Parkinson. Surely you know the Parkinsons."

"Yes, yes of course I do," he lies, looking behind him, as if searching for help. "But I - I'm sorry to say, we haven't really been expecting guests."

"Not even close friends of the owners of this house?"

The beady eyed man twists his fingers, but the door is wider open now – just wide enough for me to see inside. The hallway is deserted, so I could easily sneak through to the main house. Time is running out, and its either he lets me through or I stun him. But do I have the courage?

"Yes – of course, right you are," he is saying. "But safety is priority Miss, I'm sure you understand. If you could just wait there, I'll get Mr. Lucius-"

He shoots me a sheepish, oily smile and turns to go, moving to close the door – and I seize the moment.

" _Stupefy,"_ I hiss, and dart forward, barely waiting to see him fall. I consider, briefly, shutting the door and dragging his stunned body out of sight – to save me more time - but if someone caught me doing so, this would all have been for nothing.

Heart thudding with exhilaration, I desperately wind back my mind to the night Dumbledore died, when Draco brought me to his room. I run up the massive staircase, faster than I have ever ran before. I can recall the paintings, the vast works of art lining the walls, but if I hadn't been so busy staring at him, I might be able to remember if it was a right or left that followed... By the time I reach the top of the stairs, I have not yet decided. I stand, looking frantically both ways, trying desperately to remember, but it is no use.

There is a shout. And my heart stops. I look behind me and there are six – maybe seven – men, skidding into the hallway, seven pairs of eyes locking onto mine. And then they are running – taking the stairs two at a time.

And then I remember. _"The right of the house looks out over the garden and the left looks out over the woods. You know how you can think things, without really realising you even think them? I chose the left, but I never thought much of it. I only realise now that I've always liked the idea of being free."_

My body is hurtling to the left before my mind has even told it to. "Draco!" I yell. So much for subtlety. "DRACO!"

_Please be here, please be here._

I can hear feet behind me, thundering in the spaces I have just passed, and I know they will catch me. "Draco!"

A rough arm seizes mine, forcing me to a halt. Every inch of me is beginning to panic now. "Woah, little lady." A filthy looking man leers into my face, reeking of alcohol. "What have we got here?"

I swing at him with my weaker arm, but someone else catches hold of it. The man gives me a toothy smile. "Could have been worse."

They laugh, nasty chuckles. They don't show any sign of wanting to move, and suddenly, I am scared for myself.

The first man tugs me towards him. I regret my choice of clothing now; my neck and shoulders have never felt so bare. "What's your name, missy?"

Just then, a door at the end of the hallway is flung open, and Draco stalks out, his hair glistening with moisture, a towel flung around his neck. "What's going on here?" And then his eyes meet mine, and harden at once. "Let go of her!"

He is inches away before I can even blink, shoving the men away from me. They oblige, but protest, loudly. "Why should we listen to you?"

I step back and take Draco's arm. He steps protectively in front of me. "I just wanted to see him," I say. My voice sounds high and unfamiliar. "The man at the door wouldn't let me in and I-" I cover my face and hide into the back of Draco's shoulder, letting out what I hope is a convincing sob. "I'm sorry, I was scared and I just wanted to see him, I'm so sorry!"

When I peek out from between my hands, the men are shifting uncomfortably on their feet. "Uh, that's no bother at all, miss," says the man who originally caught me, his persona completely changed. "Sorry to have been uh, rough with you, just normal safety procedures-"

"Yes, thank you," Draco interrupts, his voice clipped. "That will be all."

He turns and pushes me gently down the corridor. When we are in his room, he quietly shuts the door and turns to face me, eyebrow raised, unsurprised by the lack of tears on my cheeks. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I think Luna's here, being held captive," I reply instantly. "I'm not sure how long - I think since Christmas - but do you have, I don't know, some kind of spare room where you think she might be?"

Draco doesn't reply. Instead, he sits on his bed and puts his head in his hands, and lets out a long, hard sigh, as if he is a fatigued, middle-aged man after a long day at work. And then something registers.

"You knew?" I burst out, my jaw falling. "You knew that one of my best friends was locked up, being held captive, and you didn't tell me?"

He looks up at once. "It wasn't like that, Isobel. I didn't know until I got home this afternoon-"

"That was at least twelve hours ago," I say indignantly. "That's plenty of time-"

"But how was I to contact you? You know the mail is monitored, and I couldn't come to you-" he catches sight of my fingers on the door handle. "If you go out there, they'll only take you captive too. Please, Belly."

"Don't you call me Belly right now," I say spitefully, but I move away from the door all the same.

Draco watches me tiredly. "You look beautiful," he says. "I'm sorry I didn't hear you outside, I was in the shower. But you have no idea what those guys would have done if I had gotten out even minutes later."

"I can protect myself," I say, trying to keep the grumble out of my voice.

But Draco's eyes are on my neck. "You still wear it?"

My hand jumps to the necklace. Its chain is nearly invisible, but the tiny star pendant gleams between my collarbones; the strapless top a gracious escape from the confines of my school uniform. "I've never taken it off."

"I didn't know."

I pause. "So, about Luna-"

Draco sighs. "What were you planning on doing when you got here? Breaking her out?" He shakes his head. "You could have been killed, Belly-"

"I-" I frown. I hadn't really gotten around to that part in my mind. "I was kind of hoping..." I trail off, but he understands.

"That I would help you."

"Yes," I say, my voice small.

Draco is silent for a long time. I sit down next to him, watching him think. His hair is still wet from his shower; his skin soft and clean.

"Isobel, you know I can't," he says finally, and I have a feeling he isn't just referring to Luna anymore. "I've told you so many times, and you need to get this idea out of your head."

"But for the sake of Luna, the life of one of my best friends..."

"I'm sorry. I really can't."

"You can't or you won't?"

He takes my hand. "Stay here. Stay the night, ok? It's too late to go home."

I shake my head. "I can't stay while Luna's locked up here somewhere. That's awful."

"I suppose," he says, slowly. "I suppose, if you stay here, you could do your best to get her out."

I pause. My eyes are drooping from tiredness, but I blink them rapidly. Luna is far more important than sleep. "What do you mean?"

"I would just be giving you a place to stay," says Draco. "I'll keep you safe, and you'll help your friend. Neither of us can get in trouble for that."

"Great," I say immediately. "That's great. Where is she?"

"You can't go now," he says, a smile tugging at his lips. "Belly, you're falling asleep."

"I don't care-"

"You really can't go right now, whether you want to or not," he says. "She'll be in the basement along with the rest of them, but they lock it at night, and there's only one key. Magic-proof."

"Along with the rest of them?" I repeat, horrified. "Who else is there?"

Draco shifts uncomfortably. "I've told you," he says. "This place isn't anywhere like the home you're used to." He pauses, then pulls me gently beside him. "You need to lie down," he says. "You can't keep your eyes open." I oblige, and rest my head on one of his enormous, soft pillows and he pulls a duvet over us. I pull his arm over me, hooking my back to his chest. "I can't promise anything," he says. "It won't be easy."

"We'll figure it out," I mumble. I can feel myself beginning to drift off already. Through the overwhelming tiredness, I feel amazed – this house is so full of danger and evil, but beside him, I'm not afraid at all. I snuggle into him. "Am I safe here?"

"You're with me," he says softly. I can just barely feel his lips against my ear. "Of course you are."

My anxieties about coming here fade into only the feeling of Draco's cushion against my cheek; his soft breaths like happy sighs against my skin. And when my eyelids are heavy on my eyes and sleep has nearly taken me, I swear I hear him whisper;

"I love you."


	36. thirty-four

I wake short hours later to hard knocks on Draco's bedroom door.

"Draco, why aren't you coming for breakfast? I've called you so many – why is your door locked?"

Draco stirs beside me. "Coming, Mother," he says, so drowsily that I'm surprised when she retreats. He rolls over to face me, a small smirk lighting up his pale face. "Good morning."

"You need to change," I say worriedly. "When they see that you're still in last night's clothing-"

"Are you really worried for my security-" he interrupts, his smirk growing, "Or is this just an excuse to see me change?"

I blush. "I've missed this."

His eyes light up and he kisses my forehead. "Me too. I was thinking that we could go somewhere today. You know, because no one can know you're here. Maybe to the beach?" His eyes grow hopeful. "I know a deserted spot, we'd never be seen-"

"I can't." His smile fades. "I'm sorry," I say, "but I came here to save Luna, not for romantic walks on the beach."

"Fine," he says shortly, rolling out of bed. "How do you plan to commence?"

"Well I can't without your help," I reply, sitting up. "You know that. When can we go see her?"

He shrugs, turning his back to me and slipping off his shirt to put on a clean one. Muscles ripple across his bare back. Any existing tan has faded since I last saw him like this; his skin is paler than ever. I want to be there to see that tan build again, and fade, through summer and winter in the years to come.

I touch my hand to his back. "I'm sorry," I say. "A walk sounds lovely, really. But the more I put off helping Luna, the more dangerous it gets."

He looks at me for a long time, then groans. "Fine. She'll be in the cellar, like I said yesterday. It's where they've put prisoners before and I've often heard them speak about it. I haven't been there in a long time. She's a teenage girl, but I won't be surprised if they threw her in there too." He shrugs on a shirt and I shyly begin to button it up for him. "We can't go now," he continues, softer, "but we'll try find some time during the morning. There's a meeting at four that I'm not a part of. Everyone will be gone except us, so if we can't go in the morning, we'll definitely go then. I'll bring you back something from breakfast."

Only minutes after Draco has left, his door creaks open. I am about to leap off the bed and hide under it when I spot his tousled white-blonde hair, and a wave of relief washes over me.

Draco nudges the door shut behind him, smirking when he sees my crouched stance. But I am too busy staring at the vast amount of food in his arms to care. I gape as he deposits the bundle onto his bed – dozens of croissants, crumpets, and fruit of every kind rolling over his sheets. "How much do you think I eat?"

"I wanted to be prepared," says Draco casually, picking up an apple from where it has fallen onto the ground. "But it doesn't matter anymore. My mother caught me on my way back up. She knows you're here, and they want to see you."

My jaw drops. "Who is 'they'?"

"Come on." He offers me his hand, leading me out into the hallway and down the staircase. This is not going as expected. "I won't let them hurt you."

But Draco is clearly disgruntled, and his mood only worsens when we step into his kitchen.

The room is vast and lavish – every surface lined with mirrored glass or gleaming white marble, every counter scrubbed to glossy perfection. But what catches my attention are the people standing around it – a head of long, white-blond hair undoubtedly belongs to Draco's father, who glowers at me. Beside him stands his wife, Narcissa Malfoy, who I have seen before but today she looks far more... Nervous? Fearful? And standing closest to me, sunken eyes blinking sweetly through huge, tangled black hair is the famous face of Bellatrix Lestrange. She smiles.

I clasp my hands together to stop them shaking. Draco clears his throat. "This is Iso-"

" _Pansy_ ," I say loudly, shooting an anxious look at him. "I'm Pansy Parkinson."

Draco rolls his eyes. "They know who you are. Wormtail snitched." He lowers his voice. "You might have told me you tried to beat him up."

The beady eyed man scowls at me from a corner, a bandage on his head. I might laugh, were I not under the terrifying gaze of Bellatrix Lestrange. "Richard Young's daughter," she says simply. "Great job, Draco. Keep your enemies close. I like it."

Lucius raps his knuckles against the pristine counter, unamused. His dagger eyed glare hasn't wavered since I stepped foot in here, which feels like an awfully long time ago. "Will you leave, Miss Young? I'd like to have a word with my son."

I look up at Draco for approval, and he nods. Before I can pull away, he leans imperceptibly closer to me, slips something in my hand and whispers; "Go now. Take a left and down the stairs."

Heart beating in exhilaration, I leave the room. Once I am out of sight, I sneak to the left, pushing the unnerving prospect of being caught by Bellatrix out of my mind. I have to squint before I see the staircase, hidden in the shadows of the corridor. The steps are steep and narrow, but I am down them before I can worry about falling, opening my hand and despite myself, grinning down at the key Draco has managed to rob for me.

The door to the cellar is thick and heavy, and I cringe at the loud noise as I push it open. I faintly hear Draco's raised voice drifting from the kitchen – no doubt trying to drown out any sound I make.

"Luna?" I whisper, squinting in a feeble attempt to adjust my eyes to the darkness. I wish I hadn't forgotten my wand. The cellar is damp, stuffy and smells like rot. _At least it's big_ , I tell myself, but I can't deny – this is much worse than I'd imagined.

"Isobel? Is that you?"

As I move towards her voice, Luna's face becomes visible from a shadow in a dark corner, huddled next to an old looking man, a meagre jug of water between them. Her clothing is torn and dirty; her hair hangs in her face, unwashed. "Hello. You haven't been caught too, have you?"

"No," I whisper. A lump is growing in my throat. This is inhumane. "Do you feel okay?"

"I'm fine," she says, as if she isn't locked in a basement. "Do you have anything to eat?"

I pat my pockets, my heart sinking. "I'm so sorry," I say, biting back tears. "Draco had – loads – you wouldn't believe... I'm coming back later. I'll bring you food then, okay?"

Luna smiles. "Don't worry about me." She nudges the old man beside her. "But Mr. Ollivander's stomach has been grumbling all day long."

"Mr. Ollivander," I repeat, the name taking a moment to sink in. The wandmaker. "Nice to... to see you." Not really. Not here. But what else do I say? I'm sorry you're locked up and I'm perfectly fine?

Ollivander leans his head against the wall, his eyes closed. He's clearly weak, and I wonder exactly how long he's been here. "I'd really love a croissant," he mumbles.

"I'll bring you more croissants than you could ever imagine," I say quickly. I crouch in front of them. "Luna, I actually came here to – to try and break you out..." Even as I say the words, reality settles slowly into my mind, mocking and scornful. This is far worse than I thought it would be, and it seems impossible that I alone could ever get Luna – and Ollivander – out safely.

"That might be difficult," says Luna, as if reading my mind. "It's a lovely thought, but I'm not sure it would work. These people really are awful." She smiles again. "But I wouldn't mind a croissant, if you're offering."

"But what am I supposed to do?" I say, my voice shaking. "I can't just leave you here. Are either of you hurt? Maybe I can bring bandages."

"Don't worry," says Luna kindly. "We're not hurt, just hungry."

Before I can reply, Draco appears beside me. His eyes slide briefly to Luna and Ollivander, but he looks away almost at once, shame flashing in his eyes. "We have to go," he says to me, his voice gruff. "Tell my parents you got lost – say you were admiring the artwork or something."

I grasp Luna's hand. "Tell me how we can help you," I say. "Draco has food, water – and we'll be back in a few hours. We'll be back at four, right Draco?"

But he is already in the doorway, his back to us. "We have to go, Isobel."

"Isobel," repeats Luna softly. "We'll be alright."

Tears in my eyes, I stand and follow Draco out of the heavy door, leaving Luna and Ollivander alone in the dark.


End file.
